Let Fire Reign
by xHarleysAngelx
Summary: Harley Quinn has been freed from Belle Reve by her beloved Joker. Take a peek inside her twisted head and at her complex relationship with the Clown King of Gotham as they plot their revenge against the Batman. It's a world built on mental illness, drugs, and a pingpong game of psychological torture between the king and queen and it only gets better and better. First DC fanfic. R&R
1. Chapter 1

Let Fire Reign

Rated M for Mature. Read at your own risk.

Summary: Harley Quinn has been freed from Belle Reve by her beloved Joker. Take a peek inside her twisted head and at her complex relationship with the Clown King of Gotham as they plot their revenge against the Batman. It's a world built on mental illness, drugs, and a pingpong game of psychological torture between the king and queen and it only gets better and better.

Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad.

A/N: Being mentally ill myself, I know a lot about what Harley and the Joker go through. I'm writing the story a from psychological standpoint that crosses over the Harley's relationship to the Joker with the one in the comics. For those of you wondering, I do not view Harley as a 100% innocent victim because I don't believe it fits her psychological profile. I do, personally, believe that she instigates some of the Joker's abuse towards her. If this bothers you, I suggest you avoid this fanfiction. Otherwise, read on.

01

 _"Will you live for me?"_

 _The sound of the Joker's voice washed over Harley, sending shivers down her spine as waves of emotion crashed down on her. Her brain was still numb from the fun they had had earlier. She couldn't think properly or even fight off the New Jersey accent she'd tried so hard to drop when she first came to Gotham. Still, though, she was trembling with excitement._

 _And fear._

 _It wasn't fear of him. Harley could never be afraid of him. He was such a beautiful person. Why couldn't other people see that he just wanted to be loved and respected like everyone else?_

 _No._

 _"Yes," Harley said, turning away from the Joker so that she stood with her back to the vat chemicals, waiting for her below._

 _What she was afraid was being with him. Because he represented greatness, and greatness - and fear? A more sensible part of her wondered. Greatness was a weapon that Harley had yet to wield. What would she do with it once she had it? What would she do with him - for him? The answer, everything and anything._

 _And that answer terrified her._

 _This was her last sane thought as a grin spread across the Joker's ruby red lips. He reached out and pushed her off the catwalk, laughing. Instinctively, Harley reached out for him as she fell and this made him laugh even harder, she saw. Then she broke the surface of the chemicals._

 _Before she could even register that she drowning, she had sunk to the bottom of the vat. The chemicals that flooded her lungs were so thick and heavy that they weighed her down. She couldn't even thrash about try as she might. Then she felt something - a hand, warm and soft, wrapping around her own._

When Harley looked up, she was standing in the door of a helicopter hovering over Gotham City. Her orange prison jumpsuit was gone. Instead she was dressed in a checked black-and-white corset over leather shorts with white back pockets and red fishnet stockings. Harley stared in awe at the Gotham skyline. "What am I doing here?"

"What's the matter, darlin?" a voice came from behind her. "Freedom not doing it for you? I can help with that."

She gasped as she spun around to face him, her love. "Puddin!" she beamed.

"Happy to see me?" the Joker asked her, grinning. He loved how tightly she was wrapped around his finger - like a noose.

"When aren't I?" Harley giggled, clinging to him. "Thanks to you, I'm as free a bird and you probably taste as good as a chicken potpie." She leaned forward on her tiptoes and dragged her tongue down and across his lips.

A deep, animalistic growl escaped from the back of his throat. Then Joker parted his lips, allowing Harley the entrance she so hungrily desired. He wrapped his around her waist and slid it into her back pocket.

"Ahem," a man coughed quietly, uncomfortably.

BANG!

The Joker stared down the barrel of Harley's ivory-plated .22 with the word "Love" glaring back at him. Directly in front of him sat his panda-clad henchmen, who was now close to death and gurgling faintly. The Joker smiled down at Harley. "He was such a boner killer."

"I can fix that, puddin," Harley promised, grinning. She spun him around and pushed him onto the panda. Then she fiddle with his buckle as she sank to her knees. She purred like a kitten when she felt his hands in her hair.


	2. Chapter 2

02

That night Harley wandered naked through the Joker's penthouse unable to sleep. Everything was just as she remembered it, except it was all more beautiful this time around, somehow. Just like her puddin. Without realizing it, she found herself back in the bedroom where the Joker sat on the bed shirtless, staring off into nothingness.

"Problem?" His gaze fell on her as she stood in the doorway.

Harley shrugged as they locked eyes. "I'm not used to the bed no more," she said, smiling as she always did when she looked at him. "It's too firm, too low to the ground."

Joker scoffed playfully. "Please, don't tell me you miss that _thing_ you called a hammock?" It came out as a question.

"I can't help it!" Harley whined. "I was in there a long time, you know." There being Belle Reve.

"Oh, alright then." The Joker rolled his eyes. "I'll have one installed on the terrace tomorrow."

"Aww, thank you, puddin," Harley said, flouncing over to the bed and straddling him happily. She kissed him on the nose.

"Of course," Joker smiled at her. "The queen mustn't go without."

It was then that Harley noticed the hardness in his voice, and she frowned.

Nighttime was darker for them than for most. Mr. J always got real moody after midnight. Harley knew he didn't mean to. It was the insomnia. He would go days without sleeping and even though it was something she suffered from, Harley knew sleeplessness could turn a guy into a regular asshole. Thankfully, he had never taken out his bad moods on her.

" _Not yet,"_ the voices whispered at her.

Harley felt her spine go rigid. Then, suddenly, Joker was gone and she sat in a darkened room, unable to move. Her torso was wrapped in a straightjacket so tight, she couldn't feel the blood flow in her arms. And across from her sat Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Her blond hair fell over her face in messy cascade and she stared at Harley with blood red eyes.

Then Harleen began to speak in the voices of God, Satan, and all the demons of Hell. " _Foolish Harley, how well insanity suits you."_ Her voice came out in a deep, booming hiss. " _Mantab teafed dlcoud uoy kniht uoy od? You're as stupid as you are crazy. Crazy! CRAZY! Only death waits for you!"_

The scene changed and Harley found herself at a crossroads with a sign in between the two paths. On one sign was the Joker's unmistakable ruby red grin and on the other was a single black bat.

" _And death is all you deserve,"_ the voices hissed. " _You, who is more worthless than most. The Clown Whore of Gotham. Die, whore!"_

Suddenly, there was a weight on Harley's chest, keeping her from breathing. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, clawing at her throat and bringing tears to her eyes as they came up. Her arms were free then, she realized and she began clawing at her throat in panic.

"Raaargh!" a scream escaped her throat.

Then she opened her eyes in time to feel her head slam backwards into the leather headboard. The Joker was on top of her, grinning, and fastening her hands to the bed with thick, leather straps. He locked them quickly and Harley felt her breathing begin to slow.

"I love it when you go into a rage like this," the Joker panted, laughing into her ear. "Let's play, shall we?"

He straddled her and kissed her deeply. Instinctively, Harley began to search out the pill she knew he had hidden under his tongue. The kiss deepened and he slid the pill into her mouth, and she swallowed it whole. Happy pills, he called them. She didn't know what kind of pill it was. She knew it wasn't prescription, anyway. She didn't care, though. Not enough to bother asking about it because it made the voices stop. All of them.

Even his.

Harley passed out as he made love to her.

* * *

The next morning, Harley woke up alone in the rounded, platform bed covered with a purple silk-satin comforter. She was still naked beneath, but the straps had been removed and that was good enough for her. Then she noticed the sound of drills going and sat up, pulling the blankets closer around her torso.

From where she sat, she could see the hammock Joker had promised her through the glass doors that led to the terrace. But still there were two workmen in the room, fiddling with something. One was running the drill and the other was feeding a thick, metallic cable into the ceiling.

Harley grinned at them. "Oh, hello, boys." She threw the blanket off and crawled to the edge of the bed where she lay down on her stomach. "Whatcha building over there?"

The workman with the cable glanced at her over his shoulder and then averted his eyes quickly. "Shut it, crazy," he instructed over the sound of the drill.

Her smile faded. That wasn't sort of reaction she was used to, but she would play along, anyway. "Crazy girls do it best." She slid off the bed and somersaulted in front of them, forcing them both to pause and look at her. "Come on, guys, don't you wanna play?"

She could tell they did. They had that look in their eyes. And he had the one she really loved in his.

"What is this?" the Joker growled from the doorway.

"Hey," the one with the cable said, turning to face him quickly. "We're just trying to do a job."

The other workman nodded. "I ain't about to die for some cheap piece of ass."

"Cheap?" Harley frowned. "Believe me, this ass was _not_ cheap." She pushed past them and walked over to her love.

He was breathing heavy now. It was that look that drove him mad. Like she was theirs. Like they could just _take_ her from him. Theirs for the taking. "Go get dressed, Harls," he instructed her in a deadly tone. But there was something else bothering him, too.

Harley kissed him on the cheek before she wandered into the closet.

Joker slid his hand into the pocket of his purple dress pants. "See, I don't share well with others. Drove my mother nuts growing up!" he laughed. The laughter stopped just as soon as it had started. "But you don't wanna share, do you?"

"No," the men said quickly in unison.

"No?" the Joker said again. "Think she's cheap - think she's crazy, do you?" He grinned at them. "Do you? That's what you said, isn't it? Because guess what, boys - no one is crazier about her than _me_!" Within an instant, he had pulled the pistol from his pocket and was pointing it at both of them. "Eeny, meany, miny, moe!"

"I-I didn't mean it, I swear," the workman who had been threading cable sputtered.

"You didn't mean it?" the Joker repeated. "You think that's gonna save _his_ life?"

BANG!

The worker with the drill fell to the floor, dead, with a bullet hole in his head.

The Joker reached out his tattooed hand and wrapped it around the workmen's mouth. "I didn't mean it, I swear!" he cried out mockingly. His voice turned to a deadly growl. "Swear to me!"

"I swear, Joker, I swear!" the man shouted.

"Good, good," the Joker laughed breathlessly. "Now, rest in pieces." He slammed the workman's head into the head once, twice, thrice. Again and again like he was hammering a particularly stubborn nail until a pool of warm, red blood formed at the base of his skull. "Well, that takes care of that," he muttered, letting the man drop to the floor. He wolf whistled and a pair of twin hyenas came running into the room. He gestured to the man groaning on the floor. "Take care of that, boys."

Then he wandered over to the closet. He had taken care of the workmen. Now, he had to take care of Harley. It was time for another round of Happy Pills. Only these ones wouldn't make her so very happy.

She was getting out of line.


	3. Chapter 3

03

 _Once upon a midnight dreary, Mr. Bruce Wayne did something eerie and traveled to Belle Reve to pay a visit to the infamous Harley Quinn. He stood silently in the hallway of the locked interview room, wondering if, perhaps, he should have come as Batman instead. But, no, Harley would have viewed that as a threat. It would driven her into a rage, and he would have gotten nothing out of her._

 _Not that there was any guarantee he would get anything out of her now. Besides, he was here more for the purpose of research more than anything else. The appearance of Harley Quinn in Gotham was more sudden and recent than that of the rise of the Joker or even Batman himself. Bruce wanted to how it had happened._

" _I have to say, Wayne, I have no idea how you got clearance for this, but I'm not happy about it."_

 _Bruce looked up at the clickity-click sound of high heels approaching and grimaced when he saw that it was none other than Amanda Waller. "It's good to see you, too, Amanda." Amanda was one of the many government agents his work at Wayne Enterprises had brought him into contact with. Neither of them was particularly fond of the other._

" _Just what the hell are you doing here?" Amanda demanded, standing beside him._

" _I have an interest in abnormal criminal psychology," Bruce recited the excuse he had rehearsed with Alfred just earlier that day._

" _Ha!" Amanda laughed humorlessly. "Quinn defines abnormal."_

" _I just don't understand it," Bruce wondered aloud genuinely, frowning. "How does someone like Dr. Harleen Quinzel end up in the arms of the Joker?" He placed a careful emphasis on the word doctor. Despite everything he had seen from her, he couldn't help but respect Harley for who she had once been._

" _That's what happens when the psycho outwits the psychologist." Amanda shook her head, sighing. "And it takes a special kind of crazy to love a man like him."_

" _I know."_

" _That's right," Amanda agreed, casting him a sideways glance that made him wonder just how much she knew about him. "No one knows him better than you Gothamites. Except, maybe, her." She nodded at Harley. "Enjoy your visit, Wayne." She buzzed him inside the interview room and locked the door behind him._

 _Harley looked up as Wayne entered the room, which was sparse save for two metal chairs nailed to the floor. She was handcuffed to hers. She smiled sweetly at the handsome billionaire. "Well, if it isn't the prince of Gotham himself. To what do I owe the pleasure, Brucey boy?" She collapsed into a fit of giggles and hung her head. How could he be the prince if Mr. J was the king?_

 _Bruce flashed her a small smile. "My queen," he said, bowing stiffly. He knew how important it was to her that he play along. He couldn't help laughing as he sat down across from her. He'd never thought he'd hear himself say those words, to her least of all, but that only seemed to please her more._

" _Very good, Mr. Wayne," Harley purred at him. "I'll be sure to tell Mr. J you were real respectable when you came to visit."_

 _Bruce raised his eyebrows at her. "You're in contact with him?"_

" _I will be," Harley promised, winking playfully. "Do you really think he'd just let me rot in this pit?"_

 _Bruce frowned. "No, not at all," he lied. He cleared his throat and decided to change the subject. "So, Harleen -"_

 _Harley cut him off. "Harleen ain't running the show no more."_

" _So you prefer Harley then?" Bruce asked her._

" _That's my name, don't wear it out," Harley giggled, rolling her eyes at him._

" _Right." He peered at her over steepled fingertips and went on. "So, Harley, would you like to talk about your relationship with the Joker - tell me what you like about him?"_

 _Suddenly, her gaze began to shift back and forth from one corner of the room to the other. Her smile grew nervous. "What's that, you think he wants to talk about Mama and Pop-pop?" she asked, speaking to no one. "He thinks my puddin did in his mama and daddy?" She locked eyes with him. "Is that why you're here, Bruce?"_

 _Bruce felt his spine go rigid. She was trying to turn the tables on him. She was analyzing him as he analyzed her. She wanted to know which of her games would work on him. Or maybe she wasn't as right about Harleen as she thought. He changed the subject. "Tell me, Harley, what kind of help have you been getting here? Are you on any medication?"_

 _She burst out laughing. "Wha, I'm on meds? I probably should start taking them."_

 _Bruce frowned. "So you aren't getting any help then?"_

 _Harley leaned forward in her chair as far as her handcuffs would allow her and grinned at him provocatively. "I ain't in here for help," she told him in a sultry whisper. "I'm in here to be punished. Do you want to punish me, Brucey boy?"_

 _He bit his tongue to keep from snapping at her. She was no fool. She may have even been smarter than him. She was talking him in circles. Still, though, he had to try. "What do the people here think about your relationship with the Joker?"_

" _Pfft!" she scoffed. "Who cares what those pussies think?"_

 _He tried a different approach. "What do you think about your relationship with him - do you ever wonder how you got there?"_

 _For the first time since Bruce had seen her, Harley frowned. "I know how I got there: I fell in love."_

Harley sat silently in the semidarkness of the room, her head aching and her skin slick with cold sweat. The room was freezing cold decorated with pictures of the victims of John Wayne Gacy, plush purple carpeting, and an enormous flat screen TV. She rested her head against the cool leather of the sofa as she tried hard to block out the music from the nightclub that shook the floor below her feet. Normally, she would have been downstairs dancing for the crowds, but tonight she felt like shit heated over. So she had opted to stay up in the penthouse while Mr. J tended to his business. Her welcome back party would have to wait for another night.

She flicked through the TV channels and stopped on the Gotham City News network. The spotlight of a helicopter followed the Batmobile through the crowded streets of the city. Apparently, there was some sorta car chase going on. She looked up when she heard the front door open. The Joker stood in the doorway framed by two henchmen with their pet hyenas, Bud and Lou, trailing after them.

Harley smirked at him. "Check it out, puddin," she gestured to the TV with the remote. "Batsy Boo is on the news again."

"Yes," the Joker said, sitting down beside her. "Too bad it has nothing to do with us."

She draped her legs across his lap and wound her arms around his neck, shaking her head. "I cannot wait to smash his melon with my hammer."

The Joker looked down at her, smiling quizzically. "You want revenge?" he growled at her playfully.

She looked up at him. "Who wouldn't?"

"Oh, I knew I'd picked a hot one!" Joker laughed, grinning at his henchmen. He turned his gaze back to Harley. "You want your vengeance, then vengeance you shall you have. It is time to start plotting our revenge against the Batman!"

"Oh, what should we do to him?" Harley laughed excitably. "Bash his skull in or -"

Joker cut her off, shaking his head. "No, my dear. It needs to be bigger than that. Much bigger." He got to feet and began pacing, back and forth. "We need to remind our young Batman who the real King and Queen of Gotham are. We need to make him kneel before us."

Harley was beaming. She just couldn't believe how smart her puddin was. She could already tell he was coming up with an amazing, master plan. "And if he doesn't?"

He grinned at her. "Then we rain hell on Gotham."

A/N: Thank you to everyone for the awesome reviews. I hope you've enjoyed what I've written so far. I've been working hard to find tie-ins from the comic books, while still staying true to the movieverse. Please, let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

04

The Joker sat silently in the darkness of his bedroom, listening to the sounds of Harley puke through the door of their bathroom just off the bedroom. A grin spread slowly across his face as he heard her choke on the vomit. Ever since her last round of pills, it'd been coming up like Old Faithful and the old gal was still none the wiser. That would teach her to flaunt his goods in front of other men.

He stood up and walked over to the doorway, and nudged it open with the heel of his foot. Harley sat on the floor looking sweaty and even paler than usual - as if that were somehow possible - bent over the toilet. She looked up at him when he stepped inside the room and quickly looked away from him. "Aww, puddin," she groaned. "You don't want to see me like this."

"Nonsense," Joker said. He went over to her and knelt beside her on the floor. Then he reached out, brushed the hair out of her eyes, and began to gently, lovingly massage the back of her neck. "Baby is sick, and we just can't have that, can we?" He kissed the base of her neck.

She shook her head. "I just don't know what's wrong with me…" Her voice trailed off.

"You're just _so_ stressed out," the Joker said, smiling sympathetically. "It must be getting to you."

"You think so?" Harley asked, looking up at him.

"Of course, of course. I mean, you've been through so much in such a short period of time - facing off against the Queen of the Damned, then being sprung from the joint, and now plotting against Batman?" He shook his head. "It's a lot to go through, Harls."

"Oh, puddin, you're right," Harley sighed. "Of course you're right. You always are, and it's only a matter of time before Waller decides to blow my freaking head off." She reached up and massaged the part of her neck where the nanobomb had injected inside of her.

"Oh, that little, old thing?" the Joker laughed. He grinned down at her. "Don't you worry about that."

* * *

Amanda Waller awoke to find herself on a gurney in a darkened room. She squinted, turning her head left and right, but her eyes just wouldn't adjust to the darkness. Groaning, she tried to reach up with her hand, but they felt heavy and wooden. She looked down at her torso and realized she was being held in place by heavy, leather straps.

"Welcome to Gotham, Wally," a distorted voice said from the darkness.

Amanda's head snapped up. "Who are you?" she demanded, scowling.

A single spotlight lit up without warning. Blinded, she cringed away from it and the approaching footsteps that came with it. "Thought you could use her, you did," the distorted voice said in a low, deadly whisper. "So you took her from me…" The voice trailed off.

"Flag?!" Amanda guessed with a gasp as the footsteps grew ever closer.

Then from out of the darkness stepped a man she had only seen in person once before: The Joker. "Wrong-o," he grinned at her, speaking into a voice transformer. She gaped at him as he threw it aside. "I've always wanted to play with one of those."

* * *

It was quiet inside Luciano's where Harley sat in the Joker's lap, dressed in a slinky red dress with an enormous black bow in the back and matching choker. Her illness from the night before had vanished just as quickly as it had come. It must have been one those twenty-four hour things, she figured.

She beamed down at the Joker and kissed him on the nose. "Aww, puddin, it's so nice of you to take me out to such a nice restaurant."

"Don't go wetting yourself just yet," the Joker smiled up at her. "We're, technically, here on business, Harls."

"I'll take what I can get," Harley purred at him. She leaned down and kissed him deeply. After all, every night was date to her.

"Boss?"

Joker broke the kiss, leaving her gazing at him poutily - just the way he liked her. He looked up at one of the two henchmen that stood beside their booth.

"He's here," the henchman said simply.

With that, Harley jumped to her feet and began smoothing the edges of her dress. The Joker stood beside her as a stout, greying, olive-skinned man rounded the corner framed by two of his own henchmen. "Carmine Falcone," he greeted the man, beaming. "Thank you ever so much for agreeing to meet with us. You remember Harley, of course?"

"How you doing, Mr. Falcone?" Harley giggled, curtseying. "Love the suit." She winked at him playfully.

"Of course," Carmine sighed somewhat warily. He turned to his men. "Go and play, boys." He waved them away before he turned back to the Clown King and Queen. "This had better be good, J. I've told you before: I don't do crazy." He sat down across from the couple, knowing he was one of the few men who dared to speak to the Joker in such a matter, but he also knew that he was one of the few who could get away with it.

That didn't mean he could say no to him, though.

"Hard to avoid in this town," the Joker snickered in a low, breathy growl. He took his seat.

Carmine thought hard to keep his eyes off of Harley's breasts, and turned his gaze to the Joker's glaring green eyes. He could see the malice in them, and knew right away the Joker did not appreciate being disrespected. _That_ made Carmine smile. Boy, how the criminals in this town had gone downhill. "So what exactly is this about?"

"Well, you see," the Joker said. "We're planning one _hell_ of a party to celebrate the triumphant return of my Harley Quinn."

Harley nodded. "That's right."

"And the guest of honor is Batman himself," the Joker added.

Carmine's spine went rigid. Batman was the thorn in the side of every criminal and low life in Gotham, and that included the mob boss himself. Everyone knew that the Joker was the only one crazy enough in town to think of a plan that might actually take him out - he had come close before, after all. Maybe with a little help he would succeed, Carmine wondered.

He smiled more genuinely at the Clown King. "Go on, Mr. J."


	5. Chapter 5

05

A/N: I apologize if anyone was confused by the last few chapters. The beginning of 4 was meant to be a direct continuation of chapter 3, taking place several hours later that evening and the events in Luciano's taking place the next evening. Someone suggested that Harley may be pregnant, and no, she is not. The vomiting was a side-effect of the Joker's Happy Pills. Again, I apologize for any confusion and hope you guys enjoy this one.

Thank you for all the awesome reviews. I love all of them. Please, continue to R&R!

* * *

Harley lay silently in the Egyptian cotton hammock Joker had had installed on the terrace. Just beyond the double glass doors, a crew of workmen had finished the work on the project she had interrupted earlier in the week: A swing for the two of them to play on. It was now obvious that Joker had meant it to be surprise for her, and she felt terrible about having delayed it. He was such a sweet guy, working so hard to improve their lives together and look at how she had repaid him…

She leapt from the hammock onto the terrace railing, her black micro-mini fluttering faintly. When was she going to learn?

Never, probably, she thought squinting into the afternoon sunlight. She knew it was stupid to do it, but she couldn't help it. She loved seeing him jealous. She loved the look he got, the way his eyes gleamed murderously. But, mostly, she just loved knowing that he wanted her for himself. What was so wrong about wanting to know that he still wanted her around?

Harley didn't know what she would do if he were to ever grow tired of her, she realized with a sigh, looking down at the busy street below.

"Harley, if you must off yourself, could I, at least, suggest doing it in a way that's not nearly so boring?"

` She looked up to find him standing in front of her, offering his hand to her. She took it, smiling sadly. "Careful," she warned teasingly. "I might take one of them." Was that really what this looked like to him?

The Joker narrowed his eyes at her. "I'd never allow it," he promised, pulling her off the rail. He spun her swiftly into were his arms, and draped one hand around her shoulders and the other around her waist. "The only dying you're allowed to do is to your hair."

"And that plant in the kitchen," Harley reminded him, giggling.

He ignored the comment and added, "Besides, it would be so boooring around here without you. Wherever would I find a doll as lovely as you?"

Harley narrowed her eyes at him. "If you ever got another doll, I'd come back from the grave special delivery to kill her myself."

The Joker grinned at her. "Is a threat?" he asked, laughing. "How very tempting." He leaned down and kissed her gently in a way that he knew would leave her frustrated - in more ways than one.

She gazed at him, longingly and only the tiniest bit stung, but still stung nonetheless. She would have to get back at him. She stood on her tiptoes, so that their lips were only mere inches apart. Then she reached out and ran her hand slowly along the inside of his upper thigh. "There ain't another girl in this city who could play this game as well as me," she promised.

Joker fought back the growl that was rising in his throat. "Perhaps I should look elsewhere then?" How he loved to put her on edge like this. He could see the confidence draining out of her eyes with each passing moment.

 _Click_.

He looked down to see his hand chained to her own via a pair of solid gold handcuffs, lined with purple fuzz.

"Where you go, I go, puddin."

"Clever girl," the Joker snickered. "Wherever did you find the room to hide those?" He eyed the lace bralette she was wearing as a shirt.

Harley couldn't help but smile in spite of herself. "I've got my ways."

The Joker grinned down at her and said the one thing he knew was sure to make her crack and break. After all, she shared about as well as he did. "So I guess a threesome is the only way to handle this?"

Her smiled quickly turned to a scowl, and she made to push past him, feeling angry and disgusted. He wanted another girl? Fine. She'd go find someone who could appreciate her whiles. Maybe she'd go and shag Bruce Wayne. She had seen the way he looked at her in Belle Reve - and Princess Harley had a pretty good ring to it.

"I think your escape plan is just a wee bit flawed, love."

She paused when she felt his hand around her wrist, and turned to see him jangling the handcuffs in front of her face. "Bite me," she shot at him.

"If you insist." Joker pulled her back to him and bit down on her jugular vein hard. He bit down even harder when he heard her gasp in restrained pleasure.

"J!" Harley cried out, pushing him away from her.

He pushed her back hard, pinning her against the glass door. He scowled down at her, breathing heavily now. All traces of humor were gone from his face. "Did you truly think I would let you go unpunished?" he growled, burying his face in her neck. "Do you really believe I'd allow you to even attempt to take your own life?"

Harley gaped up at him. That's what this had been about? She almost laughed. "Puddin, you know I -"

"You think that matters - whether you meant it or not?" he snapped at her. He lowered his voice to a deadly whisper. "Look at all I've done for you, look at what I've gone through to get you back, look at what I'm doing to make you happy. Is it not enough for you - do you not appreciate any of it?"

Harley frowned at him. "Puddin, I don't understand. Why're you being so serious -?"

Joker cut her off by kissing her deeply, briefly. Then he reached inside his pocket and pulled out something small and round: A Happy Pill. He placed his tattooed hand atop her lips and slid the pill onto her tongue. "Maybe you need this more than you need me."

Harley swallowed the pill as he slid his hand out of the cuffs and began to wander into their bedroom. She turned and watched him sink onto their rounded, platform bed. She stared at him for a moment. She had never seen him like this. She had never known he could get this upset. Not over her, anyway.

She went over to him, feeling tears starting to well up in her eyes. Of what she wasn't sure. There was no word for what she was feeling right now. "Puddin?"

Within an instant, the Joker was on top of her, kissing her fiercely. Then he pulled away, growling, "You are my favorite toy. Does that mean nothing to you?" He scowled down at her, panting.

Harley stared at him. That was the closest he'd ever coming to saying _those words_ to her before. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. "I love you, too."

He didn't smile as he held her, stroking her hair lovingly. What a little fool she could be, but she was _his_ fool and he would allow no one to take her from him. Least of all her. Knowing she had finally realized that meant that he had won. She would never try to deny him nor be rid of him. He would have her forever and ever after just the way he wanted her. He kissed the top of her head. Then he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

No one was allowed to take his toys.

* * *

" _Love is patient, love is kind, love means slowly losing your mind."_

 _\- 27 Dresses_


	6. Chapter 6

06

Bruce Wayne stood silently in the Batcave, scowling at his computer monitor. He had hacked into the city's electrical mainframe and was looking at a still taken by a streetlight in the Italian district. It was a dark, somewhat blurry photograph, but the subject was undeniable: Harley Quinn. In the photo, she was riding in the Joker's trademark purple Lamborghini, aiming her .22 at the very traffic light that had captured her image. Obviously, this could only mean one thing.

"Master Wayne?"

Bruce glanced over his shoulder at Alfred. "Harley Quinn has returned to Gotham," he informed him.

Alfred looked at the picture over his shoulder. "And the papers don't know?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"It would appear not." Bruce adjusted the zoom on the his computer, so he now had an extreme close-up of Harley. He could just make out the Joker's profile in the drivers' seat of the car. "The Joker went on a rampage after she was arrested, and now he has her back and has yet to announce it?" He scowled. "They're up to something."

* * *

Harley stood silently beside the Joker in shipyard's early morning fog. It had been a week since they had made the deal with Falcone, and the sun had not yet risen, but it was finally time to pick up his shipment of goodies. So, of course, Mr. J was being extra cautious. He had armed himself with his favorite machine gun whilst Harley wielded her mallet with her .22 strapped to her garter and a sickle dangling from her belt. Beside the two of them was a group of gun-wielding henchmen each one dressed up as different children's toys with Bud and Lou snapping at their ankles.

"Boss," a voice came from behind them. "Is that this really necessary?"

Harley exchanged a glance with the Joker as they turned to face one Jonny Frost. She didn't know him very well personally. Supposedly, the Joker had hired him to help get her out of Belle Reve and had liked his work so much that he had decided to keep him on permanently. He was a little cutie, too, but she knew Joker wouldn't appreciate it very much if she forced him to kill one of the "useful" henchmen. Rocko and Henshaw weren't exactly the brightest bulbs on the tree and did little to contribute to the group, except aim and shoot.

Except when he asked questions like this, Harley couldn't see how this Frost guy was much use, either. "Aww, is the ickle newbie afraid of a little Batface?" she asked him, teasingly.

Frost frowned at her. "You think he knows about the plan?"

"Oh, believe me," the Joker said, turning back to face the water. "He knows _something_. Batman has this town wired. This is going to be fun."

Harley grinned, knowing Joker was right. Maybe she'd even get her revenge a little bit early. Ever since the day, he had found on the terrace and told her that she was his favorite toy, he had been distant with her. He was sleeping even less than usual and wasn't talking to her as much or paying her much attention at all. Maybe if she took out Batsy, though, things would change.

Maybe he would even look her in the eye again.

Just then the cargo ship they had been waiting on appeared on the edge of the foggy waters before them.

Harley stepped forward and made to leap on board the ship before the Joker threw his arm out in front of her to stop her. "Puddin?"

"Them first," Joker said, nodding at the others. "Then you." He scowled as he remembered how he had almost considered leaving her back at the penthouse for this little pickup. He knew she could handle herself in a fight. She had always been able to, but he couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting back to the night of her arrest and how he had thought _he_ would have been able to handle her absence. But he hadn't been able to, and an involuntary growl rose from his chest as he thought back to the ache he had felt in his chest when he realized there was a chance he might never get her back. If she had been given the death sentence...

The thought disgusted him to his very core, but he knew he was going to have be much more careful with her.

"Gotcha." Harley nodded as the ship docked in front of them. "You heard him - you first!" she called over her shoulder to the others.

Frost and the others boarded the ship. Harley followed after them close on their heels and the Joker directly behind her. Once they were on the ship, she saw that the place was crawling with crew members. Falcone's men, she figured, there to guard the shipment. One of the men wolf-whistled at her as she walked past.

 _BANG!_

The Joker stood silently with his own .22 drawn and aimed at the man who now lay, coughing blood onto the deck.

"Falcone won't like that."

They looked up to see the captain of the ship walking towards them.

Joker grinned at him. "I'm having an off day," he said, pocketing the smaller gun. "Take us to the cargo hold."

"Of course," the captain said, nodding. He began to lead them down to the cargo hold.

Then without warning, a Batarang flew past the Joker just missing his nose by inches and implanted itself firmly in the glass of the captain's quarters directly in front of them.

"Shit!" Frost cried out as they all took cover behind the low, blocky quarters. "It's the Bat!"

"You don't say," Harley said, grinning. "I'll handle this one, boys."

The Joker reached out to grab her, but she had already skipped off. "Take Bud and Lou, and go cover her," he growled, turning to Frost. "Now!" he added when Frost looked like he might hesitate.

"You idiot!" the captain shot at him. "It's your shooting that set him off - you gave away our position!"

Joker withdrew his handgun again and shot him wordlessly.

Frost unleashed the hyenas and immediately, they began attacking Falcone's men.

"Go get the stuff," the Joker instructed the rest of his men before he slunk off into the early morning darkness.

It wasn't his shooting that had given them away, he knew. Batman had been waiting for them. Someone must have tipped him off, presumably someone on board the ship. That meant that one of Falcone's men was a narc. He cocked his gun and began shooting each one as he passed.

"Harley!" Frost called as he neared her.

Harley turned to him and immediately heard the hiss of Batman's grappling hook. The hook soared over their heads, latching onto the roof of the captains' quarters. A split second later, Batman was flying towards them.

"Come to play, Batsy boo?" Harley said, somersaulting out of the way of the vigilante. She unsheathed the sickle from her belt, grabbing the nearest one of Falcone's men. Then she promptly slit his throat.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Frost demanded, looking at her like she was insane.

Which she was.

Harley rolled her eyes. This new guy was no fun. "Human meat shield - duh."

Then the Batman touched down on the deck and turned towards them. "Harley," he greeted her in a growl.

"Batsy." Harley grinned at him. "Let's play." She whistled to the hyenas. "Get him, boys!"

Within an instant, Bud and Lou had dispatched the opposing the henchmen. They turned, snarling, to the Batman and leapt at him. Harley drew nearer as Batman fought off the hyenas, clutching her shield by the neck of his shirt. She slashed Batman with the sickle, but the metal bounced uselessly off his cowl. She tried again and burst out laughing when blood spattered her makeup.

"Ngh!" Batman threw Bud and Lou to the ground. Harley had managed to penetrate the weak spot in his armor, and he now sported a six-inch long gash across his chest. He yanked the dead man's body from her, knocking her weapon from her hands. He roundhoused her, pinning her to the ground with his boot.

"Ah, ah, ah, Batman," Harley sang at him, drawing her ivory-plated .22 from her garter and shooting wildly at his costumed face without really aiming.

Batman back-flipped away from her only to be hit in the face with her 200-pound mallet that was now being wielded by Frost. His eyes swam with tears as the weight of the thing collided with his temple and he toppled to the ground, dropping to one knee. Blinking away the tears, he leapt to his feet and upper-cutted Frost in the chin.

"O, Batman!"

He turned to see the Joker, framed by a group of men, each one dressed as a children's toy and carrying a heavy, wooden crate.

Harley flounced over to the Joker's side, beaming. "Puddin!"

Batman narrowed his eyes into disgusted slits. "You two are terrible for each other," he spat at them. "Just what, exactly, are you playing at, Joker?"

"That's for us to know and you to find out," the Joker told him, grinning. Then he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a smoke bomb, which he threw to the ground.

Immediately, the air was filled with dark green smoke, so thick that Batman could see nothing. When it cleared moments later the Joker, Harley Quinn, and the rest of them were gone.

A/N: Thank you all so much for all the awesome reviews.  
Sorry if this chapter wasn't very good, and sorry about the AU Jonny Frost.  
Please, let me know what you thought!


	7. Chapter 7

07

 _Harleen Quinzel had always been fascinated by_ extreme _personalities and abnormal psychology. Even as a child, she had been drawn to horror movie villains, monsters, and the actual criminals that had inspired them. Every morning, she would wake up and read the newspaper in awe of the crimes that people had committed just the night before. It was a terrified awe, but that only made it all the sweeter._

 _As she learned more about psychology and the Cycle of Abuse, she began to pity the strange characters that filled the silver screens and the people she imagined were like them. She wanted to help them, she had realized early on. She wanted to make a difference in their lives if possible._

 _The first time Harley had seen him, the Joker had been locked in his cell at Arkham Asylum in the max wing. She had worked at Arkham for six months now, but this was her first time visiting the wing. She only managed a quick peek at him through the tiny, barred window on the door of the room. He sat with his thin_ _arms bound to his sides by a straightjacket, his skin bone-white and taut against his cheekbones, and his eyes as emerald green as his hair. She couldn't help but stop to stare at him for a second. He was surprisingly young - maybe in his late 20s or early 30s. She had been studying his steady rise to fame as the Clown King of Gotham since her days in junior college. He had to be, by far, the most fascinating patient Arkham had to offer._

 _As she stared, the Joker looked up at her and smiled that deadly smile Harley had seen so many times in the newspaper clippings. It was then that she knew she would do_ anything _to have even one session with him._

The sun had just begun to rise when Harley and the Joker stumbled into the empty nightclub below their penthouse, high off of adrenaline. Harley giggled as Joker pressed her against the black walls of the club and began to kiss her neck. "You were magnificent," he hissed in her ear, brushing her hair away from her face. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.

Harley broke the kiss and began to dance away from him playfully. She stepped inside her glass cage and beckoned him towards her. He pushed aside the curtain of thin, gold chains and stepped inside the cage. Harley immediately pushed him to the ground and straddled him, grinding her hips against his.

She couldn't stop smiling. She knew it had only been a few days, but it felt like it had been years since the last time he looked at her with that light in his eye and that smile on his face. The one that made her feel like he wanted her, and that he was happy with her. She never wanted him to stop looking at her that way. But as she leaned down to kiss him, she saw his eyes light up on a spot on her chest.

The Joker reached out and lowered the strap of her camisole, exposing her naked chest. A blue-purple bruise had begun to blossom and darken in the spot between her collarbone and breast. It was so very like the ones he had noticed on her during their long ago sessions together in Arkham, it actually took him a minute to realize where it had come from. "Batman," he growled, scowling.

Seeing the change in his expression, Harley quickly adjusted her cami and kissed him, draping her arms around his neck. She lowered herself into his lap and wrapped his legs tightly around his waist. "Don't worry, puddin," she said assuringly. "We'll get back at him."

Indeed they would. The Joker would make sure of that. He nudged her hands away from the bruised spot on her chest with his nose and began to kiss her there gently, biting her playfully.

Harley kissed the top of his head, running her hands along the contours of his spine.

* * *

Later that day, the Joker met with Frost and the others at the Funko Toy factory to examine the merchandise they had apprehended earlier that morning. The factory had been shut down in the 1950s. It was dark, dank, and crawling with asbestos and God only knew what else. It was the perfect hiding spot.

He stood silently, watching Henshaw pry the lid off one of the half-dozen crates they had acquired. A moment later, the lid clattered to the floor with a resounding _thud,_ revealing a dozen, small vials of pale, green liquid. The Joker walked over to the crate and kicked the lid aside.

"What is it, boss?" Henshaw asked, watching him bend over and carefully select a vial from the crate.

The Joker examined the liquid for a moment, eyeing it silently. He looked up at his men and said simply, "Ruflaseia."

"What's it do?" Rocko asked him.

"Boy, you guys are just full of questions, aren't you?" the Joker grinned at him. "Why don't we find out?"

He reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew two gas masks. He put one on himself and threw the other to Frost before he threw the vial to the ground where it shattered into a million tiny pieces. Instantly, the ruflaseia began to boil and sizzle against the concrete floor as a thin, green haze began to fill up the room. A laugh escaped the back of his throat as the Joker watched his two henchmen fall to the floor with tears in their eyes, coughing on the smoke.

Joker eyed the crowbar that was still clenched in Henshaw's fat, little fist. He walked over to him and bent down, so that his mouth was level to Henshaw's ear. "Hey," he said, grinning behind the gasmask. "Why don't you kill the little bastard?" He gestured to Rocko.

Henshaw's eyes flickered from the Joker to Rocko and back again. Then he leapt to his feet with the crowbar in hand and began to bash the henchman's brains in. Blood and cranial matter splattered against the concrete.

The Joker howled with laughter.

* * *

Later that night, the Joker returned home with a small, thin Tiffany blue package.

"Puddin!" Harley greeted him, leaping up from the couch. Her eyes fell on the package. "What is that?"

"For you, of course, m'dear," the Joker smiled at her. He offered it to her, registering the shock in her eyes, and for good reason - it wasn't often that he resorted to these sort of antics. But, to him, it was less of a gift and more of a reminder. "I saw that you had lost your choker."

"Oh, puddin," Harley gasped as she opened the box. Inside of it was a thin, golden chain with a pendant attached to it. She took it out of the box to get a better look. The pendant was small but heavy and spelled out the word "Puddin" in ornate cursive with a single emerald dotting the letter I. "It's so beautiful," she said somewhat breathlessly. "Thank you."

Joker took the necklace from her and hung it loosely around her neck. "Never take it off," he told her. It wasn't the sort of leash he usually kept her on. It would, by far, be classiest piece in her jewelry box, but he wanted the world to know: She belonged to him.

"Of course not," Harley murmured, looking down to eye the pendant.

Then she looked back up again, and the Joker was gone and in his place stood Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

" _User!"_ the voices hissed at her. " _He uses you. Why else would he want you?!"_

Harley opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Then before she could even process what was happening, Harleen had tackled and pinned her to the ground. She grabbed Harley by the shoulders and began to shake her. She shook her so hard that Harley began to scream.

"Rrraaarghhh!"

" _You are nothing to him - NOTHING!"_ the voices screamed back at her.

"Son of a -!"

Harley sat shaking and sobbing in the Joker's lap on the floor of the penthouse. He had pinned her hands together behind her back and was struggling to shove something down her throat with his bleeding fingers. "Swallow the pill, Harls," he hissed at her. "You know they help!"

But he pushed too far and Harley pulled away from him, dry heaving over the carpet. Then she turned back to him and snatched the pill from his hand. She didn't bother swallowing it. She ate it, the chemicals tasting bitter and acidic in her mouth, but she knew they would work faster this way and that was all that mattered.

The Joker pulled her towards him and lifted her up into his arms, bridal style. He carried her silently from the living and down the hall into the bedroom. Then he laid her on the bed and began to ready the straps.

They were going to have fun tonight.

A/N: I'm so glad you guys liked the last chapter ^_^  
Quick word of warning to everyone, NEVER eat the pill, no matter what it is. It will always be disgusting!


	8. Chapter 8

08

Harley groaned quietly in bed the next morning as her eyelashes fluttered into wakefulness. The Joker had left her strapped to the bed all night, long after she had passed out from the Happy Pills and the delusions had melted into nightmares. Deep, purplish bruises had formed on her arms and wrists from her nightly struggles against the thick, leather that held her in place and her head was aching dully.

"Sleep well?" Joker asked her as he undid the straps one by one. "I certainly hope so because you've got a big day today, Harls."

"Aww, puddin," Harley groaned, sitting up in bed. "What are you talking about?"

The Joker smiled down at her. "Get dressed, sweetcheeks," he instructed her. "And make it snappy - we've got a playdate with your favorite assassin for hire."

"Assassin?" Harley repeated, staring after him as he left the room. She sat for a moment, wondering who he could possibly mean. Then she climbed hurriedly out of bed and began to get dressed.

After she had changed into a lacey, purple halter with long, black gloves that ran the length of her arms to cover the bruises, and a pair of tiny black shorts Harley wandered into the living room where the Joker and Jonny Frost were waiting. The Joker stood silently with her favorite leather jacket waiting for her since it was raining outside and was wearing his own leather trench, while Frost stood by the door with an umbrella.

"So where are we going?" Harley asked, sweeping her hair out of her eyes.

The Joker helped her into her jacket and grinned down at her. "You'll see."

* * *

It wasn't until Frost had driven them deep into the Narrows that Harley realized who they were going to see. And there were only two reasons they paid a visit to anyone: Either someone had a business proposition or else they had a deathwish. "Puddin," she said, a sense of unease creeping into her voice. They had pulled up in front of a crumbling apartment that she recognized from the descriptions she had heard back in Belle Reve, and she knew all too well who lived there. "Puddin, what are we doing here - he didn't hurt me, puddin-"

The Joker cut her off with a laugh. "Relax, Harls," he assured her. "I'm _not_ going to killing him."

Harley stared at him. "You're not?"

"Of course not!" Joker told her. "Not after he was so kind as to spare your life in Midway City. Did you think I had forgotten?" Then again, he also hadn't forgotten how close that bullet had come to actually hitting her, either, so he couldn't make things too easy.

Harley shook her head, a smile spreading slowly across her lips. "No, puddin, course not."

So they must have come for business then.

The Joker grinned at her as he reached under the seat for the small, compact safe he kept hidden there. "I'm only here to repay the favor." He put in the combination on the safe, opened it, and retrieved his gun. Then he looked up at Harley expectantly.

She reached out and grabbed her .22.

Then they stepped out into the rain.

* * *

"Alright," Frost said when they met up with him in the alley by the apartment building. "There are two guards from Belle Reve stationed outside the apartment building, two more inside, and two more in the armored truck around the corner from here."

Harley couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Puddin," she said, turning to the Joker. "Why is this guy even here - he's still a pussy, little newb. We could take care of this on our own. Why is he suddenly trailing after us like a freaking puppy?"

This time it was the Joker's turn to roll his eyes. Digustedly, he wondered why he had found life so difficult without her. Things had certainly been quieter while she'd been in prison. "Just roll with it, Harls," he sighed, shaking his head. He turned back to Frost. "Any word on the Bat?"

Frost breathed an uneasy sigh, silently praying he wasn't about to witness one of their legendary lovers' quarrels and shook his head. "The goons you hired to rob Gotham First National are keeping him busy. We've got twenty minutes, half an hour tops before he catches wind of this."

"Good," Harley said, pushing past the two of them. She cocked her gun, stepping out of the alley, and back out into the rain. "Let's get to it then."

Frost stared after her uncertainly. "Should I cover her?" he asked his boss.

The Joker pushed past him and hurried after her. "Take out the bus," he snarled at him over his shoulder.

When he rounded the corner, the Joker found the two guards dead on ground and Harley already on her way up the first flight of stairs to the apartment. Screams erupted from the people on the lower floors, doors were opening and slamming, and sirens could be heard in the distance. He grabbed her by the wrist and scowled at her wordlessly. What an idiot he had been. They were in the Narrows - the police were always only a gunshot. Not that he didn't have most of them paid off, but still, he should have brought men than this. It was foolish sending her into a situation with so many pigs running about.

"Aww, c'mon, puddin," Harley said, smiling at him. "It's not like I did something you said _not_ to do." Then she wrenched herself out of his grip and continued up the stairs.

Two minutes later, they reached the fourth floor landing. Harley made to round the corner, but the Joker reached out, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her backwards. The bullet shot by the first guard bounced off the wall and missed her face by inches. "Boy, these guys are terrible shots," she murmured.

The Joker ignored her. He pushed past her silently and put two bullets between the eyes of each of the guards. He made to start down the hallway, but this time Harley grabbed him. He grinned down at her manically as he heard the sound of the footsteps coming up the stairwell. The police, no doubt, he thought. "You know, it _thrills_ me when you do this."

Where the hell was Frost - didn't he realize he was supposed to be covering them?

"He's here visiting his kid," Harley reminded him. "He'll be a lot less likely to shoot me." She stepped around him and led him down the hallway.

The Joker frowned, considering this briefly before following after her. They reached the door of apartment 4-G and Joker promptly shot the handle off the door, and kicked it open. Inside, there was a tall, aging black man with a thick beard, dressed in prison garb and handcuffs. Behind him, cowered a small, malnourished girl that bore a striking resemblance to him.

"Harley?!" Floyd Lawton spat in disbelief. "What in the _hell_ is going on here - what the fuck is _he_ doing here?!"

"Ah, ah, ah," the Joker said, smiling. "I'm not the enemy here - they are." He gestured to the police men who had just reached the fourth floor landing.

"On it, puddin." And before he could process what was really happening, Harley stepped out into the hallway and shot three out of the four policemen that had been rushing towards them with weapons drawn. "Gotham's best and finest," she scoffed, marching over to the last officer. She knocked the gun from his hand, lifted him by his collar, and half-dragged him back to the apartment. Once inside, she closed the door, and barred it with a nearby kitchen chair.

"Word of advice, officer," Joker said, turning to the trembling officer who clearly had not been trained for this type of situation. "You may want to let them know we have a hostage situation up here." This hadn't originally been part of the plan, but since little Harley here felt the need to improvise, he supposed he had no choice.

"Oh, hell, no," Floyd said, scowling and taking up a protective stance in front of his daughter. "Harley, you got about three seconds to tell me what you are doing here with that psychopath you call a boyfriend -"

The police officer was now rambling into his walkie-talkie about deranged clowns and hostages.

"Oh, relax," Joker said, rolling his eyes and cutting off both of them. "I didn't mean _her_." He nodded at the girl. "Yeah, that's right," he added when he saw the look of undisguised terror on the cop's face. " _You're_ the hostage. Be sure to mention that."

The cop was now sobbing openly into the walkie. "I _am_ the hostage - I repeat, _I am the hostage_!"

Floyd looked from the Joker to Harley and back again, obviously confused. "Harley," he said, his gaze settling on her. "What is-?"

Harley shook her head and shrugged. "Got me, honey." She made her over to him and began to undo his handcuffs. "What the hell kinda cuffs are these - they're, like, ziplock straps or something."

"Yeah, she's really just along for the ride," the Joker told him. His breathing had turned heavy as he checked his watch. They had ten minutes before the Bat would arrive. "She knows about as much as you do, and will you stop that whining?!" He growled at the cop in the corner. "I've killed things that complain less."

The cop fell silent immediately.

Harley looked down at Floyd's daughter. "Hey, kid, you got any scissors?" she asked her.

The girl pointed a shaking finger at the knife rack on the kitchen counter.

Floyd shook his head in angry disbelief as Harley wandered over to the counter and removed a large butcher knife from the rack, and the Joker pulled a thin, plastic Halloween mask of a pig out of his coat pocket and placed it on over the cop's face. "You know, as much as this might surprise you," Floyd said. "I might be a lot fucking calmer if y'all two weren't pointing loaded weapons at me and my daughter!"

Harley emptied the remaining bullets from the chamber of her .22 and handed it over to the little girl. "Here you go, sweetie," she said. "Go play." She knelt down and set to work on Floyd's handcuffs.

The Joker, however, ignored him completely and turned his attention back to Harley. "You still got those cuffs from the other day?"

Without asking what he meant, Harley reached inside her halter and tossed him a pair of gold-plated, fuzzy handcuffs which he used to handcuff the masked police officer.

"There you go," Harley said, slicing off the plastic cuffs and setting the knife down on the kitchen table. "I'm pretty surprised, though - you can take a guy out from over a mile away, but you can't figure out how to get out of those things?"

The Joker sat down in the chair that Harley had barred the door with, and motioned for her to join him. Harley sat down in his lap silently. "You see, Floyd," he said, grinning. "I know all about how you spared my dear, little Harley Quinn here and now, thanks to you, she gets to attend the great, big 'Welcome Back' party we've been planning. So it would seem, I owe you a favor and here I am offering to do you a pretty big one."

Floyd stared at the two of them in stunned silence for a moment, debating. Considering. Considering whether he might want to kill Harley or her boyfriend first. Here he was trying to have visitation with his daughter, and the two of them just came barging in, trying to get him involved on whatever crazy-ass scheme that they were planning that would add who knows how many years to his already excessive sentence at Belle Reve. And they claimed it was because they wanted to do him a favor?

Oh, they were dead.

But still, some part of him wanted to hear them out. They were the King and Queen of Gotham, after all. You didn't just walk away from them without hearing what they had to say. Especially not when one of them was holding a loaded gun, only mere feet from where his daughter stood.

"Daddy," his daughter said, breaking the silence finally. "Is this like the gun you use as Deadshot?"

"What?" Floyd said, suddenly remembering the fact that his eleven-year-old was now examining with morbid curiosity a weapon of murder and destruction. "No, it is _not_ like my gun." He snatched it from her and threw it on the kitchen table.

"No, he's right," Harley said, smiling sweetly at the girl. "Mine is much prettier."

Floyd turned back to Joker and Harley. "What, exactly, do you want from me?"

"It's not what we want from you, Floyd," the Joker corrected him. He smiled at him, hoping he wouldn't take too much convincing. "It's what you want - it's what you've always wanted."

"And that is?"

"Revenge against Batman," Harley said, grinning up at him.

Floyd scowled at the sound of the vigilante's name. Had it not been for Batman, he would have never ended up in Belle Reve and his daughter would be living with him in a his loft instead of in this ghetto in the Narrows with her mother, struggling to get by. He looked from the king to the queen, quickly putting the pieces together. "You want to get back at Batman for putting Harley away?" he asked, awaiting confirmation.

"And you want to get back at him for putting you away," the Joker laughed, grinning at him. "Isn't it beautiful how this all works out - everyone gets what they want!"

"What about Waller?" Floyd asked. "The nanites is our necks?"

"Floyd, relax," Harley assured him. "Puddin's got it all taken care. I mean, I don't know how, but he says he does so…" Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

Floyd hung his head in disbelief and began to rub his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Not exactly the answer I wanted to hear, Harley," he said, shaking his head. "Do you know what'll happen if this doesn't work out - if I get caught?" He looked up at her. "If you get caught - forget Belle Reve. This'll mean the death sentence and your boy here will be back to rotting away in Arkham."

Harley's smile faded as she took this in. She had never really thought of it that way before.

"Now, now, now," the Joker said, reaching into his coat pocket once more. His grin grew deadly as he did so. He had been hoping he wouldn't have to do it this way, but the man doubted him - _she_ doubted him, and there was little time left for discussion. He had no choice. He pulled out a teeny, tiny, vial of ruflaseia. Barely enough to fill a test tube, but it was enough to grab Floyd's attention. "Let's not go getting worked up, shall we, or I'll have to make you act _by force_."

"What the hell does that mean?" Floyd demanded. "Harley, what the hell is that?"

Harley shook her head. She wasn't actually sure what it was. All she knew was that it must have been from Falcone's shipment they had picked up the day before. Whether or not it was deadly or toxic, she had no idea. Joker was the brains behind most of their plans, including this one and like so many times before, he had been quick to leave her in the dark about the details. Like this one and the visit to Floyd. "Puddin…" she said, getting to her feet. "Puddin, you said you wouldn't hurt him."

"No, Harls," the Joker corrected her. "I said I wouldn't _kill_ him because he spared your life, but as far as I'm concerned that debt's been repaid." He turned to Floyd before either of them could respond. "You see, you're free now - the cuffs are off and you can anywhere you want to until you screw up and get caught again. But make no mistake, Floydy my boy, you are free because of me. So, you see, you owe us now."

"Do as he says, Floyd," Harley said quickly. She was all too familiar with the edge in his voice. The malice that had crept into his eyes whenever it looked like a deal might turn sour. "I like you. You're my friend. Do as he says."

"Yes, Floyd," the Joker said, laughing. "Do as I say because if you don't the little chemical in this vial will make you. See, ruflaseia is something like a mind-control serum. It doesn't brainwash you completely, but it makes you O, so open to suggestion." He retrieved a purple cellphone from out of his pocket and began to play a video of the incident between Henshaw and Rocko back in the Funko factory.

Floyd covered his daughter's eyes with his hand and took a protective stance over her once more.

"However, if I were to use it on you now, I'm afraid I can't say how it will affect _her_." The Joker gestured to the girl, laughing. "See, there hasn't been much testing done on children."

Harley's eyes grew wide as he began to uncap the vial. "Puddin, don't -!"

She was cut off as the Joker turned and backhanded her hard across the face. He grabbed her by the chin and scowled down at her. "What did we say about telling me what to do?" he asked her, his voice a deadly whisper. "Haven't you questioned me enough for one day, hmm, and after all I went through to set up this little playdate for you two? After all I went through to set up this little reunion and you doubt me?" He hadn't meant to do it. Really, he hadn't. But he wasn't thinking properly. He could feel that familiar ache in his chest - the one that had taken over when she was in prison - now that they were down to two minutes. He was panicking, he realized with a grin and he began to laugh humorlessly.

He was panicking because, he realized, he had been stupid. To attempt to apprehend a wanted, maximum security prisoner in a time span of thirty minutes, tops - that had been cocky even for him. And Frost wasn't even around to ensure they got out without much trouble let alone to keep Harley from doing something idiotic. Like she just had.

Floyd took a hesitant step toward the two of them. His daughter was now sobbing behind him. "Easy now, Mr. J. Please, I don't want my daughter to see this." His voice trembled with respect and fear because he understood now: He truly had no choice. His daughter was at stake - Harley was at stake.

Harley looked away from the Joker, blinking back tears. It was the first time he had hurt her in so long. The last time had been during his escape from Arkham Asylum. She tried not to think about it. She didn't want the little girl to have to see it, either. So she lowered her eyes and said quietly, "I'm sorry, puddin. It won't happen again."

"You bet your sweet ass it won't," the Joker growled at her, his breathing evening out. Maybe she understood the urgency of the situation, after all. "Now, then, Floyd, Deadshot - whatever, do we have a deal?" He turned back to Floyd.

Floyd nodded uneasily. "Yeah, man, we got a deal."

"Good man," the Joker said. He laughed as he offered him his hand to shake.

Floyd shook it silently.

"Now, then," the Joker said. "Let's get the hell out of here before the cops swarm the place." He led Harley over to the fire escape by the window.

She grabbed her .22 off the kitchen table, and then followed him outside into the pouring rain.

Floyd turned to his little girl and kissed her on the head. "Be good, sweetie." Then he turned and climbed out of the open window.

It turned out Frost had been waiting for them on the rooftop of the building next door. One by one, they jumped the narrow alley to meet up with him. The streets below were flooded with cop cars, siren cries, and frenzied crowds. Any of other day, it would have been a beautiful sight, but today the Joker found himself struggling not to strangle his lackey.

Frost traded Joker the keys to the armored car that had escorted Floyd into Gotham in exchange for the keys to the car they'd driven into the Narrows. The majority of the cops waiting below had been paid off to give them just enough time to get out of there before Commissioner Gordon arrived.

"Get out of here," Frost advised. "The Bat is on his way and his car's way faster than the commissioner's."

Harley found herself crying silently the whole way home, but she wasn't angry at the Joker. She was angry at herself.

* * *

"Harley, Harley, Harley," Joker said once they had returned to the penthouse. "Come here. Let me look at you." His anger had all but dissipated, his breathing had evened out, and the ache in his chest had vanished. Now, he just wanted to look at her. He wanted to see that she understood that he hadn't meant it.

She gazed up at him under the flourescent lights of the kitchen. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to question you."

"No, sweetie," the Joker said, smiling sweetly at her. "Of course not, and I didn't mean to hit you. I never should have done that." He shook his head sadly. "Never should have done that. There was just so much pressure and so little time. He wasn't cooperating - _you_ weren't cooperating." He looked down at her as he tried to explain, but to whom he wasn't sure. He had never felt the need to justify his actions towards her before. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Harley looked up at him. He seemed conflicted, somehow, and there was an emotion in his voice that she had never heard there before. Guilt, maybe, but she was sure it wouldn't last long and she knew she would never get an apology out of him. "No," she said. Then she pulled her gun from out of her shorts and pressed the barrel against his chin. "And you won't," she promised him. She wasn't weak, little Harleen Quinzel anymore. She wouldn't be knocked around by him the way her other boyfriends had knocked the sad doctor around. But she wouldn't leave him, either. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you so much, puddin," she added, pulling the gun away. And she was sad because she meant it.

And the Joker found himself frowning because he knew she did, too.

* * *

" _I pick my poison and it's you." -Rita Ora_


	9. Chapter 9

09

"Damn it!" Commissioner Jim Gordon watched the scene playing out in the interview room with a sigh. Inside sat a frowning, tight-lipped eleven-year-old girl named Zoe Lawton, who they had been attempting to prod for information about her father Floyd Lawton - AKA Deadshot. The world's deadliest assassin for hire, who had just gone missing from a supervised visitation with her. "Forget it, Mendoza," he said, speaking into the earpiece the interviewing detective was wearing. "She's not going to rat out her father."

"And Quinn?" a low, raspy voice came from behind Jim, making him jump.

The commissioner spun around to face Batman himself. He sighed, "All we know about that is some "scary clowns" came to visit them." He shook his head. "There is still no proof that Harley Quinn is back in Gotham."

"I gave you proof," Batman said, reminding him of the photograph of Quinn and the Joker he had hand-delivered to the commissioner the day of the dock robbery.

"I need _definitive_ proof before I go sending a squad team knocking on the Joker's door. One wrong move and the entire city could be endangered by that madman - you know that." He ran his hand through his hair, obviously stressed. "Look, there's been nothing in the news about a break in at Belle Reve, and even if there had been, why would he bring her back here when the whole country would be on the lookout for them? It'd be too obvious. That picture could have been taken anywhere, I'm sorry, but it's simply not enough."

Batman pushed past him to peer at the girl in the interview room. "Any word from Waller yet?"

Amanda Waller was the warden-in-chief at Belle Reve and that meant Deadshot was her responsibility. Gordon wasn't even one-hundred percent sure if, technically speaking, the GCPD had any jurisdiction over this current incident.

"None," Gordon told him.

"And that doesn't strike you as odd?" Batman asked him.

Gordon scowled at him. "Get me proof of the break in, and then we'll talk."

With that, Batman disappeared back to his awaiting Batmobile. The government was covering up the break in at Belle Reve, and it was putting on a damper on his plan to take out the Joker and Quinn before things got out of hand. That meant he was going to have to right to the source.

He put a call in to Lucius Fox.

* * *

Once he was back in the Batcave, Bruce removed his cowl and rushed down the stairs towards the bank of computers where Lucius was typing away furiously. He was a faster and better hacker than Bruce had ever dreamed of being. "Anything yet?" he asked.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at him. "These things take time, Bruce."

"This - whatever it is - it needs to be stopped." Bruce heaved a sigh and crossed his arms across his chest. "The Joker should have been brought in yesterday."

"Do you have any idea why he wasn't brought in today?" Lucius asked him.

Bruce nodded. "Lawton's guard from Belle Reve have been killed. Shot dead with a .22 Magnum."

Lucius paused and gave him an incredulous look. "Doesn't that sound awfully similar to -?"

"Harley's piece," Bruce said, nodding in agreement. "Exactly but none of the cops who were present are talking, either. They all claim not have to seen any of Quinn or the Joker, and the only thing we could get out Lawton's daughter is that some scary clowns came to pay them a visit."

"And what the hell did they chalk that up to?" Lucius laughed humorlessly.

"Copycats - the Die Laughing gang."

Lucius shook his head in disgrace. "Gotham's best and finest," he scoffed.

* * *

The Joker lay bed silently, holding Harley to his bare chest in a deathgrip. It had been two days since they had picked up Deadshot and dropped him in one of their many safe houses around the city. It was also the first time since then that Harley hadn't opted to sleep in the hammock he'd installed on the terrace. Alone.

Joker was sure that Harley was not planning to leave him, but he didn't dare leave her alone these past few days. He couldn't make it too easy for her if he turned out to be wrong, after all. So, instead, all business had been conducted from the penthouse living room, and Frost - who he had shot in the foot for abandoning them - had been assigned to act as her guard. But, so far, the coast had been clear of overnight bags and goodbye letters.

Instead, Harley had ignored him completely. She would leave the house for hours, going on extravagant shopping sprees, wearing the least amount of clothing possible, constantly hanging off the arm of some henchmen or another. Then she would return drunk, flirting, and flaunting herself in front of everyone in the room. Everyone except him, that was.

No, for the Joker, Harley would not even spare a passing glance.

Had it not been for Frost's constant vigil over her, he would have thought she was starting an affair. Which she may as well have given the way she had been behaving recently - sitting in the laps of strange men with her arms wrapped around them and her breasts hanging out while she purred sultry flirtations in their ears.

By the end of the third morning, he knew he had to put a stop to it. She was getting much too out of line.

 _That afternoon, the Joker returned to the penthouse after a meeting with a party planner over at the Funko factory to with one his men, trailing behind him and toting a large, white package from Pucci. Joker paused when he got to the living room and found Harley happily curled in the lap of a dealer that had worked for them for nearly a year, slurring drunkenly into his ear. Unsurprised and unphased, the Joker pulled out his gun and shot the man between the eyes._

" _Leave," he growled at the others._

 _They left silently, leaving the package on the coffee table._

" _You know, Harls," the Joker said once they had gone. "They do say two wrongs don't make a right."_

 _Harley ignored him and merely stared at the body of the dead man in front of her._

 _Joker grabbed the package off the table and thrust it into her lap, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, Harley looked up at him. Then at the box and back again. She scoffed and pushed it away from her, and onto the floor. "What, and that's supposed to make it all better?" she murmured, cupping her chin in her hand._

 _That was it - he snapped. He reached out, grabbed her by her wrist, and pulled her roughly to her feet. "You're right," he grinned at her. "I shouldn't have - you really don't deserve it. I mean, with the way you've been acting these past few days we're lucky there's a business left to run at all. It's really not like you to act like such a -"_

 _BANG!_

 _Within an instant, Harley's gun was out and the shot she fired missed the Joker's face so narrowly that it grazed his cheekbone. She scowled at him silently, fiercely. He would never apologize, she knew. But he did want her to stop. He wanted her to be his again. That's what this was all about, and it was as close to an apology as she was ever going to get._

 _So she would let him have her._

 _Harley holstered her gun, and stood up on her tiptoes. "But, you know, you're the only one for me, puddin," she whispered to him, the tip of her tongue grazing his ear._

 _The Joker grabbed her other wrist and pushed her against the wall, pinning her against it. "And don't you forget it," he growled before he bent down and kissed her fiercely._

The next day, Harley woke up to the sound of voices coming from the living room. Her head was pounding with the worst hangover she'd experienced in her life thanks to her three-day long drinking binge revenge and her body ached from the fun of the night before. But still she recognized them immediately: The Joker and Floyd. So Mr. J had decided to let him out of the funhouse for a bit, she thought, smiling. She climbed out of bed and then paused.

The package the Joker had brought home for her, seemingly as a way to get on her good side, had been set on the seat of the swing he had had installed for her. Then she had been almost too drunk and pissed off to notice it, her pride clouding her vision. Today, though, she couldn't help but wonder what it was and she wandered over to it curiously. She pulled the lid off the box and gasped.

Inside was the most delicate lace and tulle gown she'd ever seen in her life. She pulled it out of the box, and spun around with it, pressing it against her naked chest. Black and purple lace cascaded around her. The front of the dress plunged into a deep V corset that tied in the back with an enormous lacey bow. It was practically a ball gown - it had a petticoat and everything.

"For your party on Friday."

Harley turned and saw the Joker standing in the doorway, watching her. "Puddin -" she started to say.

But the Joker cut her off. "Why not put some of those clothes you bought to good use and actually put some on - we have a guest, in case you haven't noticed."

Harley smiled at him poutily as she wandered over to the closet. So he was still mad at her for before, but she'd make it up to him. She always did. "I heard Deadshot in the other room," she said, riffling through the bags of merchandise she'd bought over the past couple of days. Then paused when she found a mint-green, midriff halter top and threw it on without bothering with a bra.

"Well, yes," Joker said, coming to stand in the doorway of the walk-in to watch her. "Now, that it's no longer just you and I, I thought I could use a hand with the party planning."

She stepped into a pleated, denim micro-mini and looked up at him. "Does that mean I get to help, too?"

"Why, yes," the Joker grinned at her. "In fact, I think it's about time I introduced you to our surprise guest."

* * *

Harley and Floyd followed the Joker silently into the depths of the Funko Toy factory, ignoring the sounds of construction that were taking place around them. All around them, crews were hard at work installing lights and speakers, transforming the warehouse into the venue for Harley's welcome back party. Except for the basement. There it was much too dark to see - nearly pitch black - and eerily quiet.

Harley paused when she heard the sounds of manic, hysterical laughter rise up out of the darkness. "Is that…?" she asked, her voice trailing off in disbelief. It couldn't possibly have been her.

"Why, yes, it is," the Joker said. He flicked a switch on the back wall and the lights flickered into life. "The one and only Amanda Waller."

And there in front of them was none other than Amanda Waller herself, wrapped tightly in a straightjacket and strapped to a gurney, her too big smile manic and forced, and her eyes wide and rolling in their sockets.

Harley stood, gaping, at Amanda for a moment, looking from her to the Joker and back again.

"Holy shit," Floyd muttered quietly, breaking the silence.

Harley burst out laughing. "Well, well, well, Wally the weasel," she grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "This _is_ a surprise." She walked over to the aging black woman and wrapped one arm around her arm. "I do hope my puddin's been treating you well, Wally, especially since you ordered Floyd here to make a kill-shot for me back in Midway City."

"Oh, don't worry," the Joker said, walking over to the two of them. "She's been treated with the utmost kindness." Amanda's eyes grew wider still as Joker approached her, and her laughter grew shrill with terror. "Oh, come now, Wally, tell Harls about all the fun we've had together. Don't tell me your stay here in Gotham has been anything less than delightful - what a poor, unappreciative guest you are." He turned to Floyd. "So what do you think?"

Floyd looked from Harley to the Joker silently. He shook his head slowly, choosing his words carefully. "How did you get her here - why is she like this? Because of the ruflaseia?"

"Not exactly, no," the Joker told him. "I mean, she'll do damn well whatever I want her to because of the ruflaseia, but combine that with a little of my homebrewed Giggle Juice and a little bit of the electroshock therapy she and that Griggs fellow so _kindly_ subjected my Harley to back in Belle Reve, and well - this is what you get. Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Gorgeous, puddin," Harley giggled before Floyd had the time to answer. She flounced over to him happily and threw her arms around his neck.

Floyd merely stared as the Joker spun her around happily, dancing to a tune that only the two of them could hear. There was no doubt that he hated Waller for injecting a nanite into his neck and threatening to blow his head off at any given second, but he could not deny the bile that rose up in his throat at the thought of she what had been through - of what he was helping to put her through. This… This was torture, and it went against his one and only rule: No women and no children.

"What's the matter, Floyd?" the Joker asked, walking over to him and slapping him on the back. "Not getting wet feet now, are you?" He grinned at him - a manic, threatening grin all too similar to the one he had seen back in the apartment in the Narrows.

He thought back to his daughter and the ruflaseia - and revenge against the Batman. He ignored the question. "What are we doing with her?" he asked, knowing he would dread the answer. "What's the plan, J?"


	10. Chapter 10

10

Two days later on a quiet Friday evening at exactly six O'clock, Commissioner Jim Gordon looked up from the paperwork in his office to find Batman scowling down at him from a darkened corner of his office, holding a manilla folder. The vigilante walked across the room towards him and threw the folder on his desk. "You wanted proof," Batman growled at him. "You got proof."

Jim opened the folder on his desk and began flipping through the paperwork inside. He stopped when he reached pictures of a partially demolished Belle Reve Penitentiary - the hole in the wall outside of Harley Quinn's cage, the security images of the smoking remnants of Amanda Waller's empty office, and men dressed up as go-go dancers, giant panda bear dolls, and donning Halloween masks featuring the likeness of Batman, Superman, and other well known heroes. He scowled up at Batman. "Why the hell haven't we heard about this?!" he demanded, slamming the file shut.

"When the most secure maximum security prison in the country for meta-humans of all kinds suddenly becomes less secure, people tend to panic," Batman said, taking the file back from him and flipping through the pictures. He stopped and pulled out one of the Joker dressed in a full SWAT team uniform, complete with body armor grinning up at the security camera in Harley's cell, wielding a machine gun. He threw it down on the table silently.

Jim picked up the picture and threw it back down again with barely even a glance at it. "Are you telling me the Joker has taken over Belle Reve Penitentiary and the government has covered it up?" he spat.

"That is exactly what I have been _trying_ to tell to you." Batman narrowed his eyes at the police commissioner.

"I have a job to do!" Jim said, jumping to his feet. "I have to think about what is best for the city -"

"Taking out the Joker is best for Gotham," Batman informed him.

The commissioner paced the length of his office and sighed, shaking his head. "And all roads lead back to Gotham?"

"It would be too much of a coincidence if the Deadshot and shipping yard incidents didn't turn out to be related to the Joker so soon after the break in at Belle Reve, don't you think?"

Jim turned to look at him. As much as he wanted to cooperate with the vigilante, there was nothing he hated more than hearing that one of his convoluted theories - and they were convoluted, more often than not - amounted to more than some irksome rumors about some such super villain or another. Because when the theories turned out to be right, that meant the entire city was in danger - everyone, including his own wife and children. "Alright," he said. "I'm gonna get some men on this. I'm sending a SWAT team down to his club, but we're going to need your help finding him and taking him in. As for Quinn and Deadshot… " His voice trailed off.

"The Joker needs to be our number one priority," Batman told him. "Whatever she may appear to be in to him in a personal sense, Quinn has never been anything more than a pawn in a game to the Joker. I don't doubt that he views Lawton the same way."

Jim looked away from him, nodding silently. When he looked up again, the vigilante had gone. Sighing, he crossed the room to his desk and picked up his phone. "Barbara," he said into the receiver. "I'm sending a team over to the house. I want you to get the kids out of the city…"

* * *

That night, Harley stood in front of a three-way mirror in a loft in East Gotham, dressed in the gown the Joker had gotten her. The party was only hours away, so all operations had been moved to the safehouse where they were keeping Deadshot. She had just finished applying her last layer of makeup when she noticed his reflection in the mirror.

"Well, don't you look hot?" Deadshot grinned at her.

Harley turned to face him. It was true. The gown suited her perfectly. "I know,right - makes my boobs look awesome," she smiled at him. "You look good, too."

"Eh," Deadshot grimaced uncertain of whether or not it was actually a compliment. It wasn't the first time she had seen him in full armor, after all. "Nothing special." He cleared his throat. "So where is Mr. J?"

"Why don't you come see for yourself?"

They both turned to see Jonny Frost standing in the doorway of the room. Harley pushed past Deadshot and followed Frost into the living room. She paused when she saw the Joker grinning at them from a special TV news report on the Gotham News Network on the television. "Puddin?" she asked, gaping at the monitor.

On screen was an image of the Joker standing in front of the Funko Toy factory, dressed in a black tuxedo with a purple tie and comberbunch. He grinned up at them from beside a roped off red-carpet, which was crowded with Joker enthusiasts, members of the Die Laughing gang, and partiers of all kinds. "Good evening, ladies and gents," he said into a microphone over the screaming crowds. "And welcome to the party of the decade, and what's the celebration, you ask? Why, the return of the Clown Queen of Crime to Gotham City, Miss Harley Quinn herself!" An image of Harley flashed across the screen before returning to the Joker. "The queen will be arriving here at the party shortly, but until then let's see who's coming down the red carpet, shall we?"

The camera spanned back to the carpet. "Well, it looks as though it's none other than the King of the Swamp himself, Killer Croc!" the Joker's commentary continued as the scaled mammoth exited the toy factory and he walked down the red carpet. He then stepped inside a waiting limousine before the camera turned its attention back to the red carpet.

Harley and Deadshot watched in stunned silence as the Croc was followed by Rick Flag and Captain Boomerang. But there was something off about them - the manic grins, the eyes rolling wildly in their sockets.

"Harley," Deadshot said in what was clearly a warning tone. "Tell me you didn't know about this."

She looked at him. "You mean puddin didn't say anything about it to you?"

"Damnit, Harley," Deadshot said, slamming his fist on the coffee table. "Those are our friends he's brainwashed into doing his dirty work - this is serious. Did you know about this?"

"Course not," Harley said, shaking her head. She felt as though she had punched in the stomach. She couldn't believe the Joker had done this, and after he had agreed to let her in on the details of the plan, too.

Deadshot shook his head. "You know what, then you'll have to forgive me, Harley, but I think I'm going to have to kill your boyfriend because this is some bullshit. First, he threatens my daughter with that wacky gas of his and now this -"

He fell silent as Harley cocked her .22 and aimed it at him. "Nobody breaks a deal with my puddin, Shot," she grinned at him. "Sorry."

"That's right," Frost said, pulling out his own gun and aiming it at the assassin. "And you'll do well to remember that we know where your daughter sleeps at night."

Within an instant, Deadshot had drawn two of his own guns and had one aimed at each of them. His gaze wavered from one to the other til he locked eyes with Harley. "Don't make me have to do this," he said, pleadingly. "I am your friend, Harls. Please, don't make me have to do this."

Harley stared at him, her smile fading. "You're my friend," she repeated. "But he's my puddin." She reached inside her corset and pulled out a gasmask at the exact moment Frost threw a vial of ruflaseia to the ground and covered his mouth with a mask of his own.

Immediately, Deadshot fell to his knees as the green gas began to the fill the room and the liquid started to eat a hole in the carpet. She watched him silently with tears welling up in her eyes, grateful that her makeup was waterproof. "Sorry, Shot."

"It's for you."

She looked up to see Frost offering her a bright purple cell phone. She took it from him and wandered out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her. "Puddin?" she said, removing her gasmask once in the hall. There were a million questions she wanted to ask him. Like why had he endangered her friends' lives.

"So what did you think of my little surprise, Harls?" the Joker asked her. "You seemed like you might enjoy a little reunion, so I figured what the hey - the more, the merrier, am I right?"

"What are they doing here?" Harley forced herself to ask him.

"Why, they're here to help _you_ take out the Batman," the Joker laughed as though she had just asked him something particularly ridiculous. "And, boy, were they ever so happy to help, especially Croc and Boomerang. That Flag fellow, he took some convincing, but it was nothing a little ruflaseia cocktail couldn't fix."

Harley bit her tongue to keep from asking why the other two had been drugged as well if that were the case, but deep down she knew the answer: The Joker had done this for himself. To make sure _he_ had the best possible chance of taking out Batman. It had never really been about Harley getting _her_ revenge. It had always been about Joker getting _his_ revenge on Batman for having taken Harley away from him.

That meant that Joker had done this because he loved her.

" _You know it's not true, fool,"_ the voices whispered to her.

Harley reached one shaking hand inside her corset and took out a single Happy Pill. She popped it inside her mouth silently, knowing it didn't matter whose revenge it was, really, because in the end he was doing it all for her. And because of that, she would follow him anywhere.

* * *

" _The worst kind of pain is when you're smiling just to stop the tears from falling_ _."-Unknown_

A/N: Sorry for the wait.

Thanks for all the awesome reviews and please let me know what you think! :D


	11. Chapter 11

11

Batman scowled down at the monitor built into the Batmobile's dashboard. The same thing was playing on every radio and TV station in Gotham: Harley Quinn's Welcome Back Ball - A Televised Event hosted live by the Joker. On screen, the Joker stood outside some sort of factory or warehouse surrounded by millions of his twisted fans, all scrambling and screaming to get on camera. The Joker had just sent out a team of villains - and one Army sergeant - into Gotham City.

"Well, now, that the entertainment has begun," the Joker said as the camera followed him inside the factory. "I would like to issue a special invitation to - that's right, you guessed it - the Batman." The camera followed him up a set of narrow steel steps. Strobe lights were flashing in the background and the crowds danced to electropop rave music. Joker paused on a catwalk beside an aging black woman Batman recognized immediately as Amanda Waller. The camera zoomed in on her hands, which were duct taped around a small black remote with a single red button on it. "Now, here's how this is going to play out, folks, if Batman doesn't show up to pay his respects to Queen Harley Quinn and myself, Miss Amanda Waller here will push the magic button on her remote control and release all the villainous men and women and who-know-whats residing at Belle Reve Penitentiary." An image of Belle Reve flashed across the screen. "And those lovely people shall then be air-lifted to Gotham City where a wonderful havok shall ensue. You have until the clock strikes twelve, Batman." Then the Batmobile was filled with the sounds of his maniacal laugh.

Batman flicked the monitor off and pressed a button on his dashboard. "Luscius," he said, speaking into the headset built into his cowl. "Have you triangulated the television signal yet?"

Luscius's voice crackled out of a speaker on the dash. "It seems to be coming from the old Funko Toy factory, but watch yourself. He wants you to find him, remember - you could be walking into a trap."

"Do I have a choice?" Batman scowled, knowing the answer to his own question.

For men like him, there was never a choice.

Just then, he was launched sideways as something crashed into the side of the Batmobile with the force of a battering ram. Without thinking twice, he activated the car's shield and threw it into reverse just in time to see Killer Croc headbutt his way into a nearby flower shop. The Croc lumbered to his feet, shaking his head and then his eyes fell on the Batmobile once again.

"Croc," Batman muttered, taking in the villain's appearance.

There was something off about him. Was it possible that the Joker was using whatever he had stolen from the shipping yard as leverage to control him? There was only one way to find out, but first, Batman had to put to an end to his rampage.

He climbed out of the Batmobile silently just as the Croc lunged at it. "Wrong way." He grabbed him by the head, pulled him away from the cracked windshield, and hit him with a fierce uppercut.

The Croc snapped his teeth around Batman's arm, lifted him high into the air, and began to shake him like a ragdoll, sinking his teeth deep into the vigilante's armor. Then he threw him back to the ground.

Batman pulled into a backflip and landed swiftly on his feet. He grabbed a Batarang from his belt and launched it at the Croc to distract him.

Croc roared in pain as it cut a deep gash across his face.

Batman launched himself at the Croc then, and tackled him to the ground. He grabbed a grappling hook from his belt and wrapped it firmly around his torso. It wouldn't hold him for long, but it would do until the cops came.

He stood, panting. "One down, two to go."

 _The Joker sat silently in his too big straightjacket, flanked on either side by a hulking guard. A grin spread across his face when the buzzer went off and in stepped Dr. Harleen Quinzel. The news had spread like wildfire throughout Arkham: Dr. Quinzel could get the clown to talk._

 _Or so she thought._

" _Harley, Harley, Harley Quinzeeeeeeellllllllllllllll," the Joker said, drawing out the final syllable of her surname. "How you doing this morning, doc?"_

 _The doctor smiled as she sat down across from him and set her notebook down on the table in front of them. "I'm very well, thank you," she sniffed at him. "What would you like to talk about this session, Mr. J?"_

 _Joker leaned forward across the table, eyeing her carefully. There was something off about her - the red rimmed eyes and the way she held her pen. With the wrong hand. His eyes immediately traveled to her opposite hand. "You may want to put some ice on that," he sighed heavily. "Help the fracture to heal."_

 _She let the sleeve of her coat slip over her hand, hiding it from view. Then she tilted her head to the side, frowning. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. J."_

 _Harley hated feeling analyzed, especially by him, the Joker knew. She was the_ doctor _here, after all. But she had been keeping things from him, and after he had been such a good boy, too. He just couldn't have that. "Isn't it a bit warm in here for that?" he said, nodding at her. "Why don't you take off the coat, hmm, or are there more marks underneath?"_

 _She scowled at him, her spine going rigid. "This_ coat _is my uniform."_

" _Does it just irk you good?" the Joker laughed at her. "Knowing that I figured out your little secret, but don't worry, I'm here to help."_

 _For a moment, Harley wavered and she frowned at him, intrigued. "Help?" she repeated. Then she got to her feet slowly, shaking her head. "I think this session is over with. I'll see you next week, Mr. J."_

 _She went back to her office with her pulse pounding and feeling once again as though he were peeking inside her head, picking apart her brain. But, as always, she couldn't but feel...Excited, she admitted to herself. She stared down silently at the fractured thumb her boyfriend had given her._

 _That night when she returned to her apartment in the Narrows, Harley's boyfriend was out. Out with another girl on another drinking binge, she knew. And when he came home the fun would start again. But he never come home that night. Or the next night._

 _At first, Harley thought that maybe he had left her, but she knew that he never would. If there was one thing her boyfriend needed, it was money and she made plenty of it working at Arkham. That was the only reason he was with her. So on the third night, she was certain something was wrong and decided to file a police report._

 _A week later, Harley stormed into Interview Room 12 where the Joker sat waiting to begin their session. She had just gotten off the phone with the police - they could find no trace of her boyfriend anywhere in Gotham and had declared him dead. "What did you do?" she demanded._

" _You're going to have to be more specific, Harls," the Joker told her._

 _She scowled at him. "You know what I mean."_

 _The Joker leaned towards her across the table and reaching out as far as his straightjacket would allow, he set a crumpled up napkin down on the table. "You're welcome," he said simply._

 _Harley reached across the table and took the napkin in her hand. Then she unfurled it silently and for a moment, she said nothing. Then O, so quietly she began to laugh: Wrapped up inside the napkin was a single human thumb._

 _That was when he knew he had her._

"We're here."

Harley looked up to see a glassy-eyed Deadshot scowling into nothingness. Then she turned and saw the crowds, the red carpet roped with purple velvet, and the multi-colored floodlights dancing in the distance. "Let's get this party started," she grinned, climbing out of the car.

The noise of the crowds pressed against her eardrums deafeningly. Cameras flashed in her face as a TV crew followed her down the carpet and her image was projected onto twin Jumbotron monitors. Then when she was halfway down the carpet, the doors of the factory were thrown open and there stood the Joker.

"Yowza!" he said into the microphone clipped to his collar. "Mama's looking hot tonight. Love the dress." He winked at her as he strode down the carpet with a henchmen dressed as a giant, white cat plushies trailing behind him.

"Puddin," Harley beamed up at him.

The Joker wrapped his arm around her waist and turning to face the crowd, he roared, "The Queen has arrived." He turned to the giant cat, who was carrying a purple velvet pillow and a hush fell over the crowd. On the pillow sat a black gold tiara, intricately woven with stones of emerald and amethyst. He reached out and took the tiara in both hands.

Harley curtseyed deeply, her dress fanning out around her.

"My queen," Joker said, bowing to place the tiara on her head. He pulled her to her feet and brushed his lips against hers, kissing her gently and cheers broke out from the crowd.

"All hail Queen Harley!" someone shouted. "Welcome back!"

"Long live the Clown King and Queen of Gotham!" screamed another.

Then before she could really process what was happening, the Joker had swept her inside of the factory with Frost and Deadshot trailing behind them. The factory had been transformed into a world of caged dancers, pulsing music, and hypnotizing strobelights. The Joker led Harley through a sea of gyrating bodies to a narrow set of stairs that led to the catwalk where was he keeping Waller.

Harley leaned against the railing, taking in the finer details of the party. Purple banners embossed with the letters J and H hung from the ceiling, a bridge ran over a pond full of piranhas, and miniature waterfalls backlight with vibrant green lighting spilled brandy into flute glasses. "Aww, puddin, I love it."

"Why, yes, I suppose it does have a certain je ne sais que, doesn't it?" the Joker grinned at her. "Hey, boys," he added, turning to Frost and Deadshot. "Why don't you go take a walk - keep an eye out for the Bat?"

* * *

"Any word yet on Boomerang or Flag?" Batman said, speaking into his headset.

This time it was Alfred's voice that came crackling out of the speaker. "According to the Joker's live stream, you should be coming up on Flag soon, sir."

Batman scowled. After he had taken out the Killer Croc, he had clambered back to the Batmobile only to discover that the Joker was live streaming all the destruction caused by the villains he'd unleashed on the city via hidden cameras. Luckily, though, Batman could use this to his advantage and was using the footage to triangulate the villains' locations.

He rounded a corner in the Batmobile and then the streets beneath him began to quake as the building nearest to him went up in a fiery explosion. And then the next one and the next one. Batman launched the car into third gear as buildings on either side of him went in flames. He pulled out of a drift and skidded to a halt as debris rained down on him. Then he saw it: The words, "Ha, ha, ha," spelled out in flames in the windows of three skyscrapers.

Loud as thunder, the sound of snare drums playing began to pour out of some unseen loud speaker as well as the one on Batman's dash. He scowled. The Joker had set this up, he understood immediately. He'd wanted a stage for his audience.

Then from out of the ruins of the buildings, men dressed as giant toys began to appear, marching to the beat of the drums. And they were being led by none other that Sergeant Rick Flag.

Batman pressed a button on his dashboard and disengaged from the Batmobile via the Batcycle. Then revving the bike's engine, he sped down the road towards Flag, barely dodging a pin missile launched at him by a giant teddy bear. The Batmobile went up in flames.

Bullets rained past him as drove, weaving his way in and out of henchmen. Then when he was near enough, he launched himself off the bike and landed on top of Flag. He grabbed him by the neck of his shirt as he secured a grappling hook to the remnants of a nearby lowriser. Then he launched both of them onto the roof top and threw Flag to the ground.

Flag clambered to his feet and aimed his machine gun at the vigilante, but Batman caught the thing by its nozzle before he could fire. He threw the gun to ground and high kicked Flag to the head.

"Who are you?" he growled at Flag. "What does the Joker have on you?"

Flag didn't respond. Instead, he threw himself at Batman, tackling him to the ground.

Batman kicked him off of him and rolled out of the way. "Luscius?" he said into his headset.

"I thought you'd never ask," Luscius's voice through the speaker of his ear piece. "He's a decorated army sergeant that works closely alongside Amanda Waller, helping to keep Belle Reve a secure prison."

Flag came running at the vigilante and made to punch him in the head. Batman caught the punch and flipped him over his shoulder, throwing him to the ground. He pinned him there. "So he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time then. But then why is he doing this - what does the Joker have on him?"

"Look at his expression, Bruce," Luscius told him, and Batman did: The manic smile and the wide eyes, constantly rolling in their sockets. "Doesn't exactly look like a sane man."

"No, it doesn't," Batman agreed with him. "But if the Joker isn't using whatever he stole as leverage against them, then he must be -"

Luscius cut him off. "Using it _on_ them, exactly."

Batman took a pair of handcuffs from his belt. He understood now: None of these people were acting of their own free will. Whatever the Joker had stolen from the shipping yard, it had mind control properties.

He secured another a grappling hook to a nearby streetlight and swung down from the rooftop where he had left Flag handcuffed. Then he pulled a man dressed as a giant Raggedy Andy off the Batcycle.

* * *

"Sir?"

The Joker looked up to see Frost standing over him. "What is it?" His gaze drifted back to the corner where Harley was grinding against a blond, twenty-something who was one wrong move away from being shot. He cocked the gun he had in his coat pocket.

"The Batman has taken out two of them already," Frost told him. "Only Boomerang is left."

"And he's not exactly a threat?" the Joker scoffed. "Batman will make quick work of him indeed. What time is it?"

Frost pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. "It's eleven-fifteen."

"He's still got time then, but not much of it," the Joker added as an afterthought. He looked up at Frost. "I want you with her at all times. He'll be here soon." He nodded at Harley.

Frost nodded in understanding.

 _It was raining outside in Gotham City. Harleen Quinzel stood silently outside of Wedgeman & Kane's. From the outside, it looked just like any other hunting and fishing sportsman's store, but she was more interested in what was in the backroom. The Joker had asked a favor of her - a big one. _

_She would not disappoint him._

 _Harley closed her umbrella and was immediately soaked by the torrential downpour that had overtaken the city that morning. Then she stepped inside the store. Bells went off over her head, and the men at the counter looked up at her momentarily before they went back to their conversation. She was just some girl. A nobody - nobody important, anyway._

 _That didn't matter, though, because the Joker had chosen her for this and that must have meant she was somebody to him, at least._

 _She walked over to the counter and cleared her throat to get cashier's attention. He was busy sorting a box of fishing lures. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice coming out more timid than she had hoped for._

 _The man looked up at her. "The pepper spray's over there." He nodded at a display case in the corner of the room._

 _Harley frowned at him. "I'm not here for that," she told him. "I - I…" She cleared her throat again. "...Uh, I'm here to pick up a package for, uh, Mr. J."_

 _The man looked up her and the two at the opposite end of the counter fell silent. "I'm gonna need to see some ID," the cashier told her._

 _Harley nodded and pulled out the card the Joker had slipped to her during their last session. To anyone else, it may seem like an ordinary playing card, but here in Gotham it represented something more than that. It represented_ him _. She handed the Joker card over to the cashier._

 _He nodded silently, and one of the men at the end of the counter quickly flipped the sign on the door from Open to Closed and switched off the lights. The cashier nodded at her. "This way." He led her past a display of hunting rifles and through a door concealed by a cardboard cutout of a fisherman with a trout._

 _The room he took her to was dark, dank, and smelled faintly of gunpowder and it was no wonder why. There were guns everywhere. Not just ordinary hunting rifles or shotguns, either. These were military grade weapons, and highly illegal ones at that._

" _Mr. J's package is back here," the cashier said, leading her over to a long, wooden table in the back of the room. On it was a long, rectangular box. "Don't open it here!" the man hissed at Harley when she reached out to touch it._

" _No," Harley said quickly, shaking her head. "Of course not!"_

" _Jeeze, the people that wacko picks for these jobs," the cashier muttered, shaking his head. "You know who to bring this to, right?"_

 _Harley nodded. She knew exactly who to bring it, too._

 _The next day, Harley arrived at the asylum early before it was even open. She entered the building through the back door where there fewer metal detectors. She left the package in the car._

 _When she got to the cafeteria, it was empty save for a few surly kitchen workers and a small group of security guards. She walked over to the guards and said quietly, "I have a package, bozos."_

 _The guards all laughed, except for a particularly hulking, bald guard who looked down at her and said,"Good to see you, Harleen. Excuse me, fellows. I better go make sure she ain't trying to bring in any explosives." He spoke casually, even though Harley had no idea who he was._

 _The other guards chuckled and he led her away from them. "You what we need then?" he asked her in a voice so quiet that only she could hear it._

 _Harley nodded. "It's in the car."_

" _Good move," the guard said. "Leave it with me. I know how to get it in undetected."_

 _That afternoon, all hell broke loose when the Die Laughing gang broke into the asylum. Machine gun fire echoed and siren lights danced in the halls as Harley ran down the frantic hallways on her way to Maximum Security, swiping her ID at necessary intervals. Finally, she reached cell number 0801. Beneath the cell number was a plaque that read, "Name Unknown - John Doe." But there was something wrong. The door had already been open._

 _Harley's footsteps slowed to a halt as she reached the open doorway and peered inside the empty. "Mr. J?" she called out in a trembling voice. This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to just leave - she had helped him. That had have meant something, right?_

" _Why, Harleen, there you are."_

 _Harley spun around to see the Joker walking towards her, surrounded by a group of costumed goons with guns. But she didn't care about them. "Mr J!" she beamed up at him. "I knew you wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."_

 _The Joker raised an eyebrow at her. "My dear, who said anything about leaving you at all?" He snapped his fingers. "Get her, boys."_

 _Then, before she could even process what was happening, Harley felt a fist collide with the side of her skull and her vision began to darken._

 _She swam in and out of consciousness as the Joker's men carried her limp body down the hallways. They kept going until they reached a deserted part of the asylum. All of the workers here were either dead or gone. Escaped._

 _Harley's eyes fell on the letters ECT. Electroconvulsive Therapy, she thought as the Joker's men lay her roughly on the table._

" _Leave us," the Joker instructed them, and they trailed out of the silently, off to terrorize whoever might be left nearby. If anyone._

 _Harley opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue felt like sand in her mouth. "Are-?" she managed to say. She tried again. "Are you going to kill me, Mr. J?"_

 _Joker beamed down at her. "I'm not going to kill you," he assured her. "I'm just going to hurt you really,_ really _bad."_

* * *

Batman drove down the highway to the Funko Toy factory. He had just finished taking out Boomerang, and now all that was left was to break up Harley Quinn's Welcome Back party. He checked the clock on the Batcycle. It was eleven-forty-five. He had fifteen minutes before the Joker forced Waller to release the prisoners of Belle Reve to unleash even more havoc on Gotham.

He rounded a stretch of highway and could just make out the crowds in the distance. Then, suddenly, an explosion went off directly in front of him. He brought the Batcycle to a screeching halt, carefully swerving out of the way of any flying debris.

The commotion caught the attention of the crowds in front of him. One by one they turned to see what was happening. The majority of the partiers - drunken college students and outcasted teenagers, who sought belonging among the Joker's followers - scattered, but the members of the Die Laughing gang - of which there were many - remained. They tore away from the red carpet and swarmed the patch of highway where Batman was, armed with whatever weapons happened to be nearby.

Batman set the guns on the Batcycle to stun mode, and shifted the bike into third gear. Then he took off, shooting as many of them as possible. He had just reached the factory when one of the gang members somehow managed to get a heavy, metal chain around his neck and began to strangle him from behind. Batman grasped the man by the arms and threw him off of him, gasping.

Then the Joker's face appeared on a twin set of Jumbotrons and everything seemed to go still. "Well, well, well. It looks like our celebrity guests were no match for the mighty Batman, but we still have one more person who like to try his luck."

The doors of the factory swung open and there stood Floyd Lawton - AKA Deadshot - at the end of the carpet. But there was something different about him than from the others. His eyes weren't rolling. Instead, he was glassy-eyed, staring straight ahead. Was it possible that Deadshot had a stronger sense of willpower than the others?

If so, then maybe Batman could reason with him. "Don't do this, Lawton," he said, watching the villain raise the gun that was implanted in his gauntlet. "He threatened your daughter, remember that - your daughter!"

Deadshot took aim.

"You went to prison for your daughter," Batman continued. "And now she's in police custody because of him because that's the only way to keep her safe!"

And he fired.

The bullet hit Batman in the chest just above the spot where his heart was, lodging itself in his skin. He fell off the Batcycle, grasping the spot and gasping. His armor couldn't withstand Deadshot's bullets for long - it had been pushed to its limits already.

"Batman…"

He looked up at the sound of Deadshot's voice. It came out quiet and strangled through his lips were still spread into that manic smile. "Help me."

Batman launched himself at the assassin and hit him in the jaw with an uppercut. He grabbed him by the shoulders. "Snap out of it!" he spat, shaking him. "You are more than whatever this - you are stronger than whatever the Joker is using against you. Do it for the city - do it for the streets your daughter takes to school, the parks that she plays in - do it for her!"

Deadshot stared at him, his eyes dead. Then something seemed to alight in them as Batman spoke and he opened his mouth to say something.

And he started laughing, a high-pitched manic laugh that pierced the eardrums of all those nearby.

Batman threw him to the ground, scowling. He knew he couldn't be a threat. Not in this state. "Pull yourself together, Lawton."

* * *

Harley stood silently inside the Funko Factory. As if by magic, the music had stopped and people had begun to leave, streaming out of the exits, the moment they got word of Batman's arrival. The cowards. "Puddin," she said, turning to the Joker. "He's ruining everything."

Just then the doors of the factory swung open and there stood the masked vigilante himself - the Batman. "It's over, Joker. The party ends now."

Before the Joker had a chance to respond, Harley grabbed her .22 out of her corset and launched herself off the catwalk, landing swiftly on her feet. "This party is just beginning!" she screeched at him, firing off a round of shots.

The Joker grinned at his henchmen. "You heard her, boys." He turned to Frost. "You make sure he doesn't capture her."

Frost nodded uncertainly and then ran down the staircase that led away from the catwalk.

"You know, there is a way out of this, Batman," the Joker called down to his arch nemesis. He pulled his gun out of his coat pocket and started slowly down the stairs. "All you have to do is swear your allegiance to us and bow to the queen."

Batman blocked a punch from one of the gang members, and knocked him out with a single blow. "Never," he said simply.

Harley stepped from where she was hidden behind one of the waterfalls. "What's the matter, Batsy?" she cooed at him. "Have problems taking orders from a girl, you misogynist!?" She cartwheeled over to where he was and high kicked him to the head.

Then she cocked her gun as he backed onto the bridge over the pond. She kicked him to the floor and fired off a second of shots at his head.

Batman dodged each of the shots and leapt to his feet. He grabbed Harley by the wrists, bending her right one back at an awkward angle, forcing her to drop the gun. "Someone who doesn't know how to swim really ought to be more careful!" He pushed her over the railing of the bridge and into the pond below.

Then Batman took off, chasing after the Joker.

"Harley!" Frost screamed. If she got arrested again, then he was as good as dead. The Joker would see to it. He fired a shot into the water to scare off the piranhas and leapt inside the pond after her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to the surface, gasping. Then he climbed on top of the bridge and pulled her out.

"Puddin…" Harley panted, her voice trailing off. "We've got to help puddin."

"Don't worry," Frost assured her. "He can take care of himself. We need to get you out of here before the cops show up." He pulled her to her feet.

* * *

Batman tailed the Joker to the factory's basement. Here there was no hint of the party that had taken place on the floors above it. Here, there was only darkness, save for one single spotlight and that spotlight was shone on Amanda Waller.

"You wouldn't hit a little, old lady, would you, hmm?" the Joker asked, stepping into the spotlight beside Waller.

Batman edged closer to him in the darkness. This was the Joker's crucial error - the stage he had set. Batman had night vision.

The Joker did not.

And Batman's night vision helped him to see the abandoned crate of ruflaseia that lay on the ground mere feet away from him.

"Of course not," the Joker went on. "It's not in your moral code, but here's the thing about you and me - I don't have morals." He snatched the remote that controlled the fates of the prisoners at Belle Reve out of Waller's hands.

Batman snatched a vial of the ruflaseia out of the crate. He didn't know what it was, but if it had mind control properties then he could use the Joker's own weapon against him. He threw himself on top of the clown, tackling him to the ground.

But the Joker held onto the remote for dear life and as Batman struggled to take it back from him - he pressed the button.

Batman smashed the vial in the clown's face.

The Joker began to scream as the liquid ran down his skin, burning him. Then his scream turned into a laugh.

Batman stood over him and snatched the remote from his hands, but it was too late. The button had been pressed, and soon all of those prisoners would be set loose in Gotham.

He looked down at the cackling Clown King. At least, Batman could relish in the knowledge that they had already brought in the worst one. "You're going to jail. Stay here."

Then he went outside to meet with the police. Commissioner Gordon would be arriving soon enough.

* * *

Harley Quinn draped herself across the sofa in the living room of the Bludhaven safe house. It had been two weeks since she had escaped Batman's rampage on her welcome back party with the help of Jonny Frost. He was going to have to be promoted, she thought, taking out the crumpled up picture of the Joker she had taken to carrying with her.

It had also been two weeks since he had been arrested.

Sure, meta-humans were on a villainous rampage all over Gotham, but what was life without her puddin? The answer was: Nothing. She didn't have a life anymore. Without him, she was nothing just like she had been back in Belle Reve.

That was why she had to get him back.

A/N: Okay, guys, I'm sorry if this chapter doesn't live up to your expectations, but this is the end of my first fanfiction and the first ending I have written in a long time, and that is what matters to me. I had a lot to go through while I was writing this chapter and, believe it or not, it was actually written to you via the comfort of my own padded cell in the hospital psych ward.  
Well, actually, it was a shared room, but I WAS in the psych ward and, believe me, some of the people in there should have been in a padded cell.  
I will probably be working on a sequel, but I haven't decided yet. If you guys would like to see one, let me know. However, I will only be putting out chapters weekly if I do decide to work on it because I would also like to devote some time to my own original works. If you would like to read those works, I will be posting them online and will post the links in my profile.  
Until next time. Hope you enjoyed the ride!


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